Say Your Right Words drabble collection
by Dani Meows
Summary: John/Sherlock drabble collection,  will attempt daily updates. Will mostly be getting together, flirting, and hurt/comfort, with some established relationship.
1. Say Your Right Words

Title: Say Your Right Words

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 300

Notes: Unbetaed.

Say Your Right Words:

I love you. Eight letters, three words, easy to spell, and easy to say in theory. Despite all this, despite the knowledge that John Watson was his heart, the words got stuck during their journey from his brain to his lips, or during their journey from his hands to the touch keys of his phone.

He couldn't say them and instead ended up snapping at John or rambling about his latest experiments. This last time, he looked into John's eyes, ready to blurt them out only to throw his hands up in frustration. Thankfully, Lestrade called with a case for them both.

It proved a nice distraction, at least until a building blew up with John inside. He'd left John there while he'd run off on a new lead.

He'd been prevented from going inside and searching through the rubble, by well meaning but idiotic police officers. What did it matter if he died or was injured, without John.

He'd been wrapped up in an orange shock blanket and he clutched it around his shoulders, feeling more lost and alone than he'd ever felt before in his life. 'John,' his mind cried, 'John, mine, I love you...'

He sat in the hospital now. The word's pouring from his lips, an endless litany of love in the various languages he'd learned. _I love you, __Je t'aime__ , Ich liebe dich, Te amo, Ti amo. _ John's eyes opened, his hand squeezed Sherlock's weakly.

"I love you too," he whispered hoarsely.

It was without a doubt the best words he'd ever heard. Better than the words: serial homicides, serial killer, we have a case for you. Better than a lifetime supply of cadavers for his experiments.

John was alive. John loved him. He loved John. The words had finally come out right.


	2. Cures for Boredom

Cures for Boredom

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed.

Bored, bored, bored. He was bored. John had hidden the gun again. Mrs. Hudson had taken the skull, again. The criminal world was quiet, again. And he, Sherlock Holmes, was bored, bored, bored, again.

John was in the kitchen ignoring him and his pouting. It wasn't fair. He was bored. The least his flatmate could do was listen to him and entertain him. Bored.

The sudden hiss of an aerosol can and the sudden cold, wet, sticky spot on his cheek, startled him out of his pouting. John had shot whipped cream at him, oh the game was _on_, now.


	3. A Mini Vacation

Tiitle: A Mini Vacation

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Thanks to everyone who has subscribed or favorited this story. :-)

It was calm and quiet. This state of affairs would normally have him shooting the walls (which really did have it coming), lamenting about the criminal classes (how dare they take time off), but this was good.

This was better than good, John fingers alternating between massaging his scalp and stroking through his hair, as he lay on John's lap. Snuggling on the sofa, Sherlock decided, was quite brilliant. It was soothing and reassuring. Despite all odds and insanity (kidnappings, body parts, Moriarty...), John was still here.

He drifted off into a peaceful sleep. This could be a small vacation.


	4. Don't Let This Be Our Last

Title:Don't Let This Be the Last Time

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Prompt 3- first

Warnings: A little angsty.

**Don't Let This Be Our Last**

The first time Sherlock's lips touched John's was not a kiss. John was bleeding, not breathing and still. Despite his own injuries and the shock, Sherlock's mind and body were focused solely on getting air into John's lungs.

As he alternated between breaths and compressions, he damned Moriarty, explosive jackets, and himself for shooting the jacket, with every compression and prayed with every breath that this wouldn't be the last time his lips touched John's.

A strangled gasp and the sound of sirens, there was hope.

When John woke up in the hospital, Sherlock snogged the breath out of him.


	5. Last Month

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 200

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 4-last. Slight Typo in yesterdays post, which was written for the prompt-first.

**Last Month**

Last month, John Watson needed a cane to walk. This month, John's cane was in a corner gathering dust and running through London was a normal occurrence.

Last month, John Watson told his therapist that nothing ever happened to him. This month, John's almost always busy, running from work, to crime scenes, and his blog is full of entries about the cases his flatmate has solved.

Last month, John Watson didn't encounter body parts when he opened his fridge. This month, if John opened his fridge and didn't find body parts he'd wonder if he was in the right flat.

Last month, John slept too much and was prone to nightmares and flashbacks about the war. This month, John almost never gets enough sleep, since his flatmate seems to think that letting him have four hours of sleep before playing the violin loudly is letting him sleep in, or they are working on a case all night. The nightmares and flashbacks have gone away.

Last month, John Watson felt dead. This month, John feels alive.

Last month, John Watson felt like he had no one. This month, John has found the best friend he's never had before in Sherlock Holmes.


	6. Flexible Uses of Lab Tables

Title: Flexible Uses of Lab Tables

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock through Molly's eyes

Rating:Pg-13 for implied shagging

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 5-Coffee

Molly mentally prepared herself as she brought a cup of coffee to the upstairs lab. Why did he never get that she wanted a date?

She opened the door and crockery shattered to the ground and her eyes went impossibly wide. She hadn't even known something like that was possible!

Sherlock and his flexible "flatmate" were putting the lab table up to some pretty imaginative use.

"You can clean the spill up when you're done," she said.

Time to go finish her shift and then drown her sorrows in a pint of ice cream and cheesy sci-fi flick.


	7. Shiver Me Timbers

Title: Shiver Me Timbers

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock friendship

Rating:Pg-13

Word Count: 200

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 6-Pirates. Also this is total and complete crack.

Guilt, John mused was a terrible thing. It could cause you to agree when your sister pressured you into a party that you did not want to go to and made you agree to a costume of her choice.

Really considering her tendency towards the dramatic, he should be grateful that it was just a pirate costume, she could have after all dressed him up as a pretty pink princess. His ability for gratitude was currently being hindered by the person he usually called his best friend.

Sherlock was bloody laughing at him, laughing so hard that he couldn't even manage his snide remarks about holidays, social events, and John's desire to please others rather than himself. In fact, Sherlock was laughing so hard John was becoming concerned that he was in danger of hyperventilating.

"I'm leaving now," he said, gathering up all of his wounded pride and and missing dignity, making him look for all the world like an offended cat. Well an offended cat wearing a hideous shirt, an eye patch, and torn and stained pants and carrying a wooden sword.

"Arrr... shiver me timbers, matey," Sherlock said.

"Oh, go walk the plank," John replied.


	8. Musings of a Burned Heart severe angst

Title: Musings of a Burned Heart

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:Pg-13

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 7-roses. Also, a huge thank you to all of you who have added me to alerts and reviewed! It's really making my day and keeping my muse (who has been unreliable for a long time) writing!

Angst warning:This story contains severe angst and character death. I cried while writing it. I'll be posting a second fluffy drabble as soon as I can.

A funeral that he attended, fingers gripping the flesh of his other hand so tightly as he struggled for control. A coffin, dirt, a gravestone that didn't say all of the things that his partner had been to him. Roses of colors that spoke of passionate love, eternal love, platonic love, love that had never had the chance to be known and seen by the body hidden within a coffin and layers of dirt.

What did any of this matter? What did cases, the game, matter anymore? None of it mattered since Moriarty had succeeded in burning the heart out of him the second that John Watson had been pronounced dead upon arrival.


	9. Always Find You

Title: Always Find You

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: None. Contains Toddler!John and Caretaker!Sherlock

Rating:Pg-13

Word Count: 350

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt table (located here) prompt 8- Hide and Go Seek

Part of the universe of a longer fic I'm working on but won't be able to post until late August for a contest on Insane Journal. John has been turned into a toddler and Sherlock is his everyday caretaker. I'll be looking for a beta for longer one so if you like this idea and want more of it early feel free to volunteer.

**Always Find You.**

Mrs. Hudson had been called away on a family emergency, so she couldn't watch John, who was currently an active toddler rather than the grown man he'd been a week ago, and the bodies currently cooling at St. Barts were vitally important to his hunt for the bastards who'd kidnapped his best friend and taken him away from him.

John looked up at him, eyes round and a smile on his pudgy baby face. "Sherwok," John mispronounced his name, and Sherlock wished that part of him didn't find it adorable so that he could scowl and be irritable.

"Wanna play game..." Playing games and running seemed to be some of the child's favorite activities which made sense when you contrasted his behaviors prior to his toddlerification.

Heaving a dramatic sigh and earning a breathy giggle for his pains, he picked up the toddler, his car seat, and called for a cab.

Molly's eyes were unreasonably wide. He had to work. He had to watch John. What was wrong with him being in the morgue? It wasn't like he'd hurt the corpses. He had the papers to view the bodies so she couldn't kick him out, so she'd left in a huff.

"Wanna play!" the toddle whined as he tugged on Sherlock's trousers.

"Busy," he scolded the toddler. Bit not good, that. John started to cry, his eyes filling with tears.

Sherlock knelt down and smiled at the baby trying to get him to stop crying. He was a sociopath darn it, who in their idiotic and insane minds had decided that he was a fit caretaker for a toddler?

"Tell you what, John, you hide and I'll find you," he said.

John stopped crying and began to find a hiding space while Sherlock counted.

He quickly finished what he needed to do and managed to tie them into the case. He ignored Lestrade and Molly who'd both come in to crouch underneath a desk, and find a dirty toddler with a smudged face.

"Found you," he said. He would always find John after all.


	10. Written on the Wall

Rating:PG

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt table (located here) prompt 9- Code

**Written on the Wall:**

I had done it! I had found the book and figured out the code.

"John!" I shouted as I dashed up to our flat, the game was on and I needed him.

It was silent. Too silent. Had he and Sarah left? No they wouldn't have they were ordering take out.

I opened the door and my heart stopped for a moment as I let out a strangled breath. Yellow symbol,_ dead man, _a threat.

They had taken John. I dashed over to the map to figure out where the black tramway was.

I had a partner to rescue.


	11. The Ring Told Him So

Title: The Ring Told Him So

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 200

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 10-ring

**The Ring Told Him So**

John Watson cleaned and polished his wedding ring often. As he did his husband's voice on that long ago (four years) first case would echo through his mind. "State of her marriage, right there."

When Sherlock came home and he would come home, even if he had been gone for three years and everyone believed that he was dead, but he wasn't because John would know if he were dead. He'd be able to feel it but instead every part of him insisted that Sherlock was alive. When Sherlock finally came home and put him out of his misery, he'd see the wedding ring still on it's rightful place, well taken care of but also showing signs of being worn every day and rarely taken off, and he'd know that it was all fine.

The day Sherlock came home, his husband was sleeping soundly on the couch, clutching Sherlock's favorite bathrobe. Sherlock's eyes were drawn first to how pale, thin, and worn John looked. But safe, John was safe, because Sherlock had left and allowed the danger to follow him rather than his husband.

Then they were drawn to the ring on John's hand. It was cleaned, polished, still cherished. There would be explanations, apologies, perhaps even groveling but in the end, everything would be fine. The ring told him so.


	12. A Secret Admirer

Title: A Secret Admirer

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/?

Rating:PG

Word Count: 221

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 11-chocolate. This one will be continued. :-)

At the start of it, the day had felt perfectly normal. He'd woken up after a late night helping Sherlock solve a case. Made his tea and toast, noting the new body parts in the fridge and wishing that Sherlock would actually use the agreed upon experiments shelf, so that the food and milk weren't directly next to body parts.

He'd bickered with Sherlock over the necessity of his "boring" job, although neither of them were really mad at one another it was just part of their routine on workdays. Then he'd left for work, leaving behind the madness and surreality that was life with Sherlock for a 10 hour shift of normalcy.

Now however it was lunch time and the wrapped package on his desk was not normal. It wasn't his birthday, nor was it a holiday. He felt suspicious.

His phone beeped letting him know he had a text.

_Surveillance checked the package. It's safe to open. It seems someone holds you in high regard.~MH_

Rolling his eyes, John returned his attention to the present on his desk, as he unwrapped it. A box of very expensive and delicious chocolates sat underneath a sheet of creamy white stationary with a simple typed message:

_When I look at you, it's all I can do to breathe. You are amazing._


	13. Anticipation

Title: Anticipation

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/?

Rating:PG

Word Count: 300

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 12-cookie. This one will be continued. :-) And is a continuation of yesterday's: A Secret Admirer.

The day after he'd received the chocolates, John went to work with a sense of anticipation. Sherlock had been out much of the night/early morning working at Bart's on an experiment, that was to volatile for the kitchen, so his flatmate hadn't been around to tease or deduct things about his admirer.

Unfortunately for John and the good mood he'd had at the start of the day, there had been no package today. Instead he had a shift that was supposed to be 10 hours turn into 15, forgotten both his lunch and his wallet, and he'd been thrown up on by a very sick toddler.

By the time he'd managed to walk home, John was grumpy and in need of a hot shower, a hot cup of tea and sleep. Mrs. Hudson stopped him on his way upstairs, "John, dear, a package arrived for you, I left it on the coffee table."

The coffee table was a lot safer place to put things than their kitchen table, which often fell victim to Sherlock's experiments.

Feeling a little hint of that anticipation that he'd had at the start of the day return, John headed upstairs with more enthusiasm than before.

Finally things paid off it was like yesterday's present.

After a nice hot shower, John sat down to enjoy a nice cup of his favorite loose earl grey, while eating his favorite chocolate digestives.

Whoever his secret admirer was they must either know him very well or they've just been quite lucky in their gift choices so far.

He reread the note hoping for a clue:

_Sometimes it's like you are the sun which my world revolves around. You are brilliant, no one tells you that enough._

Whoever it was John was intrigued. Maybe next time there would at least be a hint of who his admirer might be.

'I wonder if I can get Sherlock interested in solving this,' he thought as he relaxed.


	14. Violins and Pastries

Title: Violins and Pastries

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/?

Rating:PG

Word Count: 300

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 13-cake. This one will be continued. :-) And is a continuation of both a Secret Admirer and Admiration. There will be at least one more, I'm handwriting it now.

Sherlock had refused the case, it was too boring, apparently. He'd then dramatically flounced on the couch and played his violin until four in the morning when John's temper had finally snapped.

He'd stormed into the living room and had a good shout the highlights being that best friend or not if he didn't stop playing he'd break the bloody violin over the detective's head. And for Christ's sake why was it that despite the fact that he could actually play actual music brilliantly, that when people were trying to get some bloody sleep all that he could play was that infernal racket. After that he'd stormed back upstairs and was lulled into sleep by a soft soothing concerto.

When John woke up, in the late morning since he didn't have work today, Sherlock was gone, again.

John wondered why he wasn't being included on whatever case, Sherlock was working on. Not only had he not been told any details, which was odd, but Sherlock hadn't even talked to him or used him to bounce ideas off of. It was very weird.

The kitchen table was clean. John stopped and stared. He pinched himself for good measure. The kitchen table was clean. There was no experiments or lab equipment on it. There was a table cloth, a tea cup full of tea that was still steaming, and a plate with his favorite breakfast pastries.

He'd lost his temper at Sherlock before and never once had his friend apologized like this. John felt confused.

His confusion turned to shock when he noticed the note that was nearly hidden.

_You're truly beautiful when you lose your temper._

Then it turned to horror, Sherlock didn't do domestic. He also didn't do relationships.

Whoever was doing this had seen last night, was watching the flat or was in the flat. That narrowed it down to Moriarty, Mycroft, and Sherlock.

John reluctantly crossed Sherlock off the list no matter how much he wished it were so. Suddenly the presents didn't seem so enjoyable.


	15. Sweet like Candy

Title: Sweet like Candy

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 330

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 14-candy. This one will be continued. :-) And is a continuation of Secret Admirer, Admiration, and Violins and Pastries. Next one will be the pay off. :-D

**Sweet Like Candy.**

Feelings of curiosity were normal for him, feelings of guilt, not so much. Today, however both of them were mingled together.

He'd thought that he'd been blatantly obvious that his John would figure out just who had been leaving him notes and presents, but instead he'd watched his friend pale. Watch him back away from the table in a panic.

When he'd gotten home, John was gone but Sherlock had found the list John had made of possible admirers, who could have also seen him lose his temper last night.

It sort of hurt a little that Mycroft, rated more likely on the possible admirer scale than he did. However it was the third name that made him feel guilty as he suddenly understood John's panic.

He hadn't even thought. Hadn't even thought that John could reach that conclusion or that it was possible.

Damn it, he'd just wanted to confess his feelings, those confusing emotions that he didn't always understand, in such a way that John could reject him without it being to awkward and without it ruining his friendship.

Despite the fact that John had never once called him a freak or seemed to consider him one, he didn't delude himself into thinking that his love could be returned.

He just wanted to know once and for all if there was a chance.

John was all things good and sweet, caring, compassionate and all of things that Sherlock was not. Why would he want a relationship with a sociopathic freak?

Grabbing the paper and a pen, he began to write in his own hand.

'Don't let this ruin everything,' he prayed as he began writing out all of his thoughts.


	16. Ice Cream Kiss

Title: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Flavored Kiss

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 400

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 15-ice cream. It's the end of the Secret Admirer storyline, hope the pay off was worth it.

15 sheets of stationary lay crumpled on the floor. He was nearly out of the cream colored paper and he hadn't managed to get what was in his head onto the paper. He wasn't surprised, the first two notes had taken hours to write and they were just short sentences.

The third one had been spur of the moment, well everything about yesterday had been impulsive, which is why John now believed that either the presents were from a psychotic criminal mastermind or Mycroft.

Impulsive. Suddenly Sherlock darted up, burned the failed missives so that no one would ever be able to read them and decided to just write the words as they came to him.

John woke up with a sense of dread, a sense that spiked when he noticed the paper on his head.

Handwritten this time, Sherlock's writing!

His hands were trembling as he read:

_John,_

_When you look at me sometimes it steals all thoughts from my head, I should hate that, nothing and no one has ever had that power before but I don't hate it. I find myself caring more about others, laughing more and doing things just because they make you happy, this too I should find annoying but I can't._

_I don't hate anything about you. I love you. _

_I love the way you try and force me to eat and sleep regularly, make me tea, take care of me. I love the way you always find my deductions brilliant or amazing, when it's you who are the brilliant and amazing one._

_I love the way you solve cases with me. I love the way that when you are around I never feel alone. _

_I started this so that you could figure out gradually that it was me and reject me without it ruining our friendship, but after seeing your conclusion yesterday, I decided this was worth the risk._

_I know you probably don't feel the same but_

The sentence stopped there only to continue on the bottom of the page.

_I love you._

John darted out of bed, changed into his clothes quickly and headed downstairs.

Sherlock was eating a tub of ice cream as he sat on the couch, trying to appear nonchalant but failing.

"I love you too," he said to Sherlock before grabbing the stunned man and pulling him into a chocolate chip cookie dough flavored kiss.


	17. All The Best Stories Start Once Upon

Title: All The Best Stories Start Once Upon a Time

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 200

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 16-story time.

**(Takes place in a magical AU verse! I'm thinking about writing a longer version of this idea anyone interested?)**

"Mummy tell me a story?" six year old Sherlock asked,

Aribeth Holmes smiled at her youngest son as she settled them on the bed.

"Once upon a time," she began, "there was a very brave detective, who was a good man even though almost everyone else doubted that he was. The detective was lonely but acted as though he did not need friends.

One day when he working in a laboratory on a chemistry experiment the brave detective met a soldier that was even braver than he.

The detective knew at once that the brave soldier who was also a hero, was his imprint, the perfect match for his soul that he'd been looking for all...

A snore interrupted her efforts. Her son, who'd been up for two days straight, had finally fallen asleep.

She hoped that he'd heard enough, it was only in stories that she could give him, hints and guidance towards his future.

She'd seen his possible futures, she preferred the ones where he had John Watson by his side. After all when a brave detective and a soldier who was a healer, work together what chance did the darkness of the world have?


	18. Through the Fires of Hell

Title: Through the Fires of Hell

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 250

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 17-hell.

For a second it was fire, burning, an explosion, then there was the sensation of John's weight hitting him, as he tackled Sherlock into the pool.

Then came terror, the realization that John wasn't in the pool. Logically, he should stay in the water, it wasn't safe out of it yet, but John was out there.

John, who could still be alive, who could need him to save him. John, who... who was important, no essential to him.

He could hear sirens, ambulances and police cars in the distance, heading this way.

Blood, near the pool, near where he'd last stood as he'd fired the gun. Tracing the blood, John's still body found. Still breathing, good... gunshot wounds, bits of debris crushing him, bit not good.

He pressed his hands to the wound that was bleeding the most. Keep pressure on it... his mind kept repeating. A symphony of keep pressure on it, and John don't leave me, playing in his head. Then the paramedics arrived, he was injected with a sedative and the world went black for a while.

Several days later, Sherlock sat on the uncomfortable chair, in John's room. He was holding John's hand, tightly waiting for John to wake up so that he could yell at him for caring about Sherlock too much and didn't he know that he should have saved himself instead.

Then blue eyes, fluttered and opened, and the words that had been playing in his head, froze and died on his tongue.


	19. Pictures on the Wall

Title: Pictures on the Wall

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count:100

Notes: Written for prompt 18, frame. Unbetaed.

Though neither Sherlock nor John advertised the change in their relationship status to everyone, evidence of it was there for the observant.

DI Lestrade lamented the lack of observant people on his team during the latest fake drug bust, to get evidence that Sherlock was withholding.

Not one person commented on the framed wedding photo on the often bullet hole ridden wall.

"Congratulation on finally getting married, last week was it?" he said as a parting shot.

Donavan and Anderson exploded with noise, just as the door was shut.

It was nice having the last word with Sherlock sometimes.


	20. Baker Street Mausoleum

Title: The Baker Street Mausoleum

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 300

Notes:Unbetaed. Prompt 19: dust. I haven't gotten to the three year hiatus in my reading of the original novels yet, but I've read several takes on it... and the happy yet angsty muse wanted to play.

A thick layer of dust lay over everything. Where was John?

Sherlock had been gone for three years, presumed dead, with only Mycroft knowing that he was still alive. Mycroft who'd continued to pay Sherlock's portion of the rent. Sherlock had arrived here, the very second that everything was over and his heart was safe, and he'd expected his best friend to be here.

Instead, the place was like a mausoleum. His violin was where he'd laid it down so carelessly, the skull was on his desk, where he'd left it... even John's belongings were still here.

Where was John? Had something happened to him that Mycroft hadn't told him about? Had he moved out and married that Sarah girl he'd been dating?

Bitter jealousy made it's way through him at the thought of the last one. John was his. His blogger. His heart.

The sound of steps and the clickity clack of the umbrella alerted him to his brother's presence even before the man spoke.

"When you died, John couldn't take living here anymore without you... so he lives with his sister. I've got a car bringing him here now."

With that said his brother left him alone. Alone with his worries. Would John forgive him for his deception? Would he move back in? Would things be the way they were? With John understanding what him in ways that no one else ever had?

The sound of footsteps jolted him out of his thoughts.

Sherlock heard the sound of the door opening, a sharp intake of breath, and his name said in a sharp gasp.

John looked paler, thinner, and older than before.

Sherlock began his apologies. Less than a sentence in and he had his arms full of his blogger.


	21. On the Destruction of Walls

Title: On the Destruction of Walls

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Prompt 20- Erection

His walls were crashing down around him. The walls that he'd erected as a child to keep the insults of others from hurting him. The walls that prevented him from caring, that enabled him to behave like a high functioning sociopath, they were crashing down

Only for John. His friend. The first person in his life that hadn't been obligated to like him for another reason, but liked him anyways.

For John, he could smile, laugh, cry, and feel no shame in allowing him to see his inner emotions and thoughts. After all, he loved John and John loved him.


	22. Without His Shadow

Title: Without his Shadow

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count:100

Notes: Sorry about the lack of fic yesterday. There was a death in the family. Unbetaed, written for prompt 21: shadows.

**Without His Shadow**

Being alone was something he had been used to until the day that he'd met John Watson. After that with John living with him, understanding him, solving cases with him, he never felt alone.

That was one of the hardest things about his current mission, the hardest being the knowledge of what his death was doing to his John, but one of the hardest was how alone he felt.

He was in the shadows taking down Moriarty's network in order to protect his heart, hearth and home but he was without his shadow.


	23. Joys and Hazards

Title: Joys and Hazards.

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating: PG

Word Count:226

Notes: Unbetaed. Prompt 22: sword

Last time he'd been attacked by a sword wielding manic, he'd escaped without injury and managed to hide the whole thing, including the sword that had been left behind, from his flatmate.

This time, however, he'd been knocked flat on his arse, cut up and nearly killed. He'd had a minute in which to regret the fact that he hadn't told his partner or anyone about him going after the criminal, when John staged a well timed intervention with a bullet. John was really good about chasing after him when he went off by himself into dangerous situations and putting bullets into people who tried to kill him. It was the best part of having an ex-soldier for a best friend.

Now that the criminal was taken care of, John was checking him over, giving him one of his _'shut up now Sherlock or I'll bin all of your experiments in the fridge'_ glares, when he'd insisted that he didn't need medical attention he was fine. John just grabbed his kit and began to disinfect and bandage his cuts while ignoring his complaining. Then, of course, came the lecture, punctuated with kisses, about engaging criminals without his partner and how if John hadn't realized something was wrong...

He endured the lectures, it was one of the hazards of having a retired army doctor as his lover.


	24. Broken Limbs for the New Year

Title: Broken Limbs for the New Year

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count:250

Notes: Unbetaed. Prompt 23.) New Year

Sherlock sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, holding John's hand. His mind was racing and he recognized that he might still be in shock even though he'd discouraged anyone from coming near him with blankets or anything else... he didn't want to be tended to by anyone but John.

John, who would be unable to tend to him for at least a month if not longer. John, who despite misunderstanding his words and actions, had pushed him out of the way of a speeding car driven by a drunk driver.

He wished he could go back to the seconds after midnight when everyone was wishing one another a Happy New Year, this time he wouldn't try to downplay the kiss as him trying to fit in with societal conventions... No this time he would make it obvious that it was a move. That he wanted John in his life as his best friend, partner, flatmate and lover...

Instead, John lay in a hospital bed, unconscious with a broken leg, broken hip, and a broken arm. John's eyes fluttered open and he stared at Sherlock.

Almost as if he didn't register his pain, his first question was on Sherlock's well being.

Sherlock got up and placed a chaste kiss on John's dry and chapped lips.

He tried to say what he wanted to say but his mind couldn't seem to get the words out.

The way John's hand tightened around his hand and the way his eyes lit up with happiness told him that John got the message anyways.


	25. Stream of Consciousness from Sherlock

Title: Stream of Consciousness from a Brilliant Mind.

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 221

Notes: Unbetaed. A 221b drabble. Written for prompt 24 Sunset.

John looks beautiful in this light. No, delete that. I am married to my work. I am not attracted to him in any way shape or form. He's merely useful for my work. He's smiling at me. Damn that smile. Damn. Why do I always smile back for him?

Why does he matter? I've never... I've never cared for anyone before. Not like I care for him. I smile for him. I try and comfort him if he's upset. I get worried when he's been kidnapped or injured. I laugh with him. I protect him if I can, when we're in danger together.

He makes me feel? Is this friendship? No, it can't be. At least it can't just be friendship, friends don't stare into a friends eyes, like I stare into John's... nor do they think that they look gorgeous. Friends don't find any excuse to touch or be touched, like I do. I'm always helping him to his coat, grabbing him...

It's not just lust. Lust is meaningless. This isn't meaningless... This is love?

Oh bloody buggering hell.

Oh his lips are soft. Very nice. He tastes like the tea he had time to drink before we had dash out for the case.

He's kissing back. His body is pressing into mine, against the wall. Mmm... this is brilliant.


	26. Dawning of Happiness

Title: Dawning of Happiness

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Rating: PG

Word Count: 221B

Notes: Unbetaed. Written while drinking shots, so may be worse than usual. Written for prompt 25. dawn, also written for Tiva-Jisbonxxx who requested that I do a Stream Of Consciousness for John. This is the same scene as yesterday's drabble only from John's Point of View.

Oh bloody hell, why do I have to be so completely and utterly in love with a man who considers himself married to his work? Why is he looking at me like that? We've been together all day so there is nothing new for him to deduce about me. Smile at him, John.

He's smiled back. Such a lovely smile. The way his eyes brighten a shade and his lips quirk slightly... oh god. He's going to drive me insane. Wait a minute, I spend most of my days running through the streets of London helping a madman solve crimes, clearly I'm already completely bonkers.

We're home. Time to walk upstairs, make a cup of tea and make a new plan for getting over Sherlock.

What? Why is he looking at me like that for? I've never seen...

He's kissing me. Press him into the wall John. Make him moan. If this is only a temporary experiment or a momentary madness, make it worth your while.

Oooh like that. His moans are amazing. His bum is even more firm than I imagined. Brilliant!


	27. Drawn to You

Title: Drawn To You

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating: PG

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 26, first sight. I kept having to remove things I wanted to get it down to 100 words even, hope it's still got the feel I was going for.

At first glance, even as my brain began to fire off things about my potential flatmate in a rapid pace, I was drawn to him.

It was unexpected, I'd never been drawn to anyone before but I was drawn to him.

After an exchange about violin playing, I insisted on leaving, but he called me back and pointed out that I hadn't told him were to go or who I was.

I gave him the address, my name, and a cheeky wink. I wanted him to think of me and be as drawn to me as I was to him.


	28. I'll Never Leave You

Title: I'll Never Leave You

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing:Sherlock/John

Rating: PG

Word Count: 200

Notes: Written for prompt 27- First Kiss. Am dead tired from school and writing nearly 3000 words on the story, I'm also posting today, which was due today. ^_^ so hopefully this one is good. I like it.

The first time Sherlock kisses John is in a hospital. John is a patient. He's just woken up. Woken up days after, Sherlock had held him as John lay bleeding and dying in his arms, in a pool after the bomb blew up. Days after, Sherlock watched paramedics try and fail to revive John three times before finally John's heart beat once more. Days after, several doctors said there was a chance that John would never wake up.

So when John's eyes open and he's alive but in pain and the doctor's say that his brain suffered no damage, although the recovery will be long, but he's alive, when Sherlock had been so afraid that he would die, well, Sherlock can't help but kiss him. Softly, tenderly but full of all the desperate words that Sherlock doesn't know how to say.

Don't ever die. Don't ever leave me. I need you. I love you. Don't die, please don't ever die.

John smiles back at him, his eyes still holding pain but also holding happiness. It takes John some effort, but he grabs Sherlock's hand and squeezes.

Saying without words, I promise I'll never willingly leave you. I love you too.


	29. Sherlock Holmes: Date Saboteur

Title: Sherlock Holmes: Date Saboteur.

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 300

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 28.) First Date

The first date of his that Sherlock had interrupted hadn't made John feel suspicious. It was for a case, the one that he'd later call the Blind Banker, and Sherlock had joined on the date for the case. Of course this case had led to him and Sarah getting kidnapped and nearly killed but surprisingly Sarah was willing to go on more dates with him.

The second time Sherlock interrupted his date it was his third date. He hadn't shown up at the restaurant that John and Sarah were dining in, instead he'd texted John, saying that it was urgent.

John had immediately tossed down some cash to pay for the meal, apologized to Sarah and rushed home. Visions of all the possible trouble his flatmate could be in running through his head. Engaging serial killers or henchmen? Science experiment gone wrong? It could be anything, really, Sherlock had no sense of self preservation.

Sherlock was laying on the couch, in his deep thinking about a case pose. "We're out of nicotine patches and milk, and this a six patch problem."

John's emotions shifted from the emotions of frustration and anger to the emotions of fond amusement. Sherlock would of course see the lack of patches as an urgent emergency.

"I thought we didn't have a case?" he asked.

Sherlock grinned but didn't answer and John left to get the patches and the milk, before the stores closed.

After that, every date he had with Sarah was interrupted or ruined by his best friend, until Sarah had broken up with him.

Three weeks later, he'd find out that the case had been how to get John to stop dating others and date him instead. He'd find this out while laying wrapped in Sherlock's arms, after the best date he'd ever had.


	30. Simplicity Itself

Title: Simplicity Itself

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating: PG

Word Count: 300

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 29, beginnings. Written while at school, during a two hour wait time, yay.

Their beginning started after what could have been their end. After Moriarty, after the pool, after Sherlock had held his trembling hands against John's bleeding stomach and watched his pulse flicker and fade. After the hospital, when for two days, it was believed more likely that John wouldn't make it than that he would.

After all of that, every excuse that Sherlock had ever come up with to avoid having a romantic relationship with John, crumbled to dust. It wasn't just lust. It was love. He loved his doctor.

It was easy after that. He held John's hand in the hospital. Tried not visibly show his glee when Sarah told John that she only wanted to be friends, because she didn't want a relationship with someone who was constantly in danger. He only jumped and grinned once no one was watching him.

Once John was still recovering but recovering from the sitting room couch, he brought John tea and his favorite books. It was easy and enjoyable to take care of John. He just wished it wasn't necessary.

The second that John was well it was easy for Sherlock to ask him out for celebratory chinese food afterward and he made it clear that it would be a date. It was easy for Sherlock to take John's hand during the date as they talked and laughed about past cases.

It was easy, once they were home, to pull John into his arms and kiss him. It wasn't easy to stop at one kiss but the look on John's face after the kiss and his request for another date made it all worth it. Being himself with John was easy.

A year later on their wedding day, all Sherlock had to say about his marriage was that it was simplicity itself.


	31. The End Game

Title: The End Game

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:Sherlock/John

Rating:PG

Word Count: 221B

Notes: Unbetaed. Written for prompt 30: end. I think I have a thing with John in hospitals. Should I hurt Sherlock next time instead?

Moriarty knew before he knew, it enraged him, even as panic was coursing through him. This wasn't a fun diversion, a game to keep him entertained, any longer. Not when John's life was on the line. John who was supposed to be safe.

John, who shouldn't be here, strapped to a semtex laden vest. He had to get John out of here, get John safe. Then he'd go after Moriarty and make him pay.

The bomb was off John now. John who'd made a little joke to try and diffuse the tension. It didn't work but Sherlock couldn't help giving him a small smile, even as he paced with the gun. A threat? Moriarty was just letting him walk away? It seemed almost to easy it was.

"Sorry boys I'm just so changeable!" Moriarty was back, the snipers were back.

One choice, his mind saw only one choice; he fired the gun at the vest. End game.

'I love you, John," he thought.

When John woke up in the hospital with injuries that had been critical but not fatal, it was to the news, delivered by Lestrade, that neither Sherlock nor Moriarty, had made it out alive.

Three years later, a shockingly shy Sherlock appeared back in his life. There was only one thing John could say, "Welcome back."


	32. Make Them Pay

Title:Make them Pay

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count:100

Notes: Written for prompt 31.) quest

Doctor John Watson, former soldier, was on a mission, find Donavan and Anderson and make them cry. They had managed to hurt Sherlock, nearly caused his lover to leave him, just because they were jealous of Sherlock's ability to run circles around the police force.

The look on his love's face when he'd told him that John had to leave because Sherlock was abusive to him, was keeping his fury burning, it had taken him hours to prove to Sherlock that their relationship wasn't like that. Hours of seeing that lost wounded look on his Sherlock's face.

They would pay.


	33. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Title: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count:300

Notes: A prequel for yesterday's drabble at the request of Totally-T3ii3 . Written for prompt 32. Rainbow. I wasn't certain if I could write this with this prompt when my mp3 helpfully shuffled to July Garland singing _Somewhere Over The Rainbow, _and hello idea. Unbetaed and if anyone else wants me to continue an old drabble or to write a certain genre feel free to mention it and I'll do my best.

Words kept running through his head, an endless parade of words, first the words that Donavan and Anderson had said, which he'd mostly discarded as useless and then the words he'd found on the internet that proved that they might be right.

He was abusive to John. He hurt John. He emotionally abused his lover. Sherlock sat on the couch, clinging to one of John's jumpers. He rocked himself back and forth as he tried to figure out what to do.

He was so lost in his head space that he didn't observe John coming in, he didn't notice him speaking, or sense him at all until a hand was laid on his shoulders.

"Sherlock?" his beloved asked. His beloved who he hurt with his inability to be normal.

"You're crying... what happened?" John gathered him up in a hug.

"I'm an emotional abuser. I should leave you..." Sherlock began, even as he clung to John tightly. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to end this. The year that John has lived with him, first as just a flatmate, then as Sherlock's friend and finally as his lover, has been the best year of Sherlock's life. Not because of the cases or the appearance of an enemy but because of John's love.

The whole story spilled out. John began trying to convince him otherwise, showered him with kisses, told him over and over again that no he wasn't an emotional abuser, that John knew that he was loved, and that Sherlock was perfect for John.

As Sherlock tried to relax and believe the words, John began to rock him even as his hands continued to rub his back in soft soothing circles.

John began to sing in a soft tone, "Somewhere over the rainbow..."


	34. When the Heart Overrules The Mind

Title: When Heart Overrules the Mind

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count:100

Notes: Written for prompt 33.) Love

Somewhere between "Afghanistan or Iraq?" and "We can't giggle it's a crime scene," Sherlock had fallen in love with John Watson. He'd never planned on telling anyone but he hadn't expected this.

A crime scene with a body, with details that he'd missed but John hadn't, that John used to make a series of brilliant deductions that solved the case. He hadn't expected his heart to overrule his mind, and to blurt out, "I love you," in the middle of a crime scene with most of the Yarders still present.

Well, there was always something he missed.


	35. Want

Title: Want

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count: 100

Notes: Unbetaed. Hope it's good, it's been a rough day (two panic attacks) and I'm writing this while medicated. Written for prompt: 34 lust.

It's habitual, an action that John is unaware of doing and usually only does when he's thinking, but it doesn't make it any less distracting and annoying to me. Pert pink tongue, touching his lips, then darting back into his mouth, it's disconcerting how much this short circuits my brain and makes me want. I want to kiss him. I want to taste those lips, I want to feel that tongue touch my own lips. I want to claim him, to own him, to possess him.

He's mine. He doesn't know it yet but John Watson belongs to me. Mine.


	36. Normal?

Title: Normal?

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:Sherlock/John

Rating:PG

Word Count:221B

Notes: Unbetaed. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or added this to your favorites and alerts, and a special thank you to everyone who sent well wishes yesterday. I'm feeling better, the meds are doing their job again. ^_^ This is written for prompt 35.) Travel.

At first, it had seemed heavenly, a quiet hotel room, three weeks away from Baker Street for a medical conference, no body parts in the fridge, no screeching of the violin, no one shooting at the walls or waking him up at odd hours, or not letting him get sleep in the first place. At first, it had definitely felt wonderful, at least for the first day.

Now however it was day three and John found himself unable to sleep. It was too quiet. Also, despite the black mood that his friend had been in for the week before he left, he missed Sherlock. He found himself wishing that Sherlock were here so that he could hear his deductions on the people that John was meeting.

A vacation was nice, but John wanted to go home, back where things were normal, well in a loose sense of the word.

He pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text: _It's too quiet here, don't suppose you'll send me a recording of your violin screeching? -JW_

_It's not screeching. I'll send you that if you let me update you via text on cases. The skull isn't the same, it doesn't talk back.-SH_

The rest of the time flew by in a flurry of texts. Home, he decided, really was the best.


	37. Mine

Title: Mine

Fandom:Sherlock BBC

Pairing:John/Sherlock

Rating:PG

Word Count:200

Notes: Written for prompt 36.) dark alley. Now I have to dash, I've got lab and I've got to put on my lab coat.

John was dating Sarah. Sherlock kept repeating this fact to himself, besides that, a relationship would be distracting and interfere with his work. John was dating Sarah, a boring, dull woman, who wouldn't give him the danger and excitement that John needed. A woman who didn't want a life of adventure and danger, and was therefore dull. A relationship would interfere with his work and John was dating Sarah.

Yet, John was here with him, had canceled yet another date with Sarah, in order to be at Sherlock's side as they tried to figure out who was poisoning certain diners at a sidewalk cafe. Sherlock called and John came. Would it always be so? Or one day would Sarah be the one who could call John away from Sherlock's side? One day, would John refuse his call?

Sherlock pinned John to the side of the wall, in the dark alleyway that they had been walking through.

"You are mine," he said.

He kissed John, possessively, roughly, and thoroughly. John did not push him away. John moaned into the kiss and added tongue. Sherlock took that as consent.

John was his. His John. Not Sarah's. His.

"Mine," he growled.


	38. An Impossible Wish

Title: An Impossible Wish

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing:Sherlock/John

Rating:PG

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 37.) genetics

Only rarely, on certain nights when he's cuddling with his husband on the sofa, after their post case dinner, does Sherlock wish that he was a female. Not because of any real desire to be a female for sexual reasons but only because if he was female he could carry John's child.

He likes to imagine it. A child with most of John features and steadiness but his mind and deductive reasoning skills. A beautiful brilliant child that would be best of them both.

"Do you ever wish that we could have a child?" he asks John.

"Sometimes," John answers, "a little boy or girl with your features and genius mind? It would be lovely." John sighs.

Both of them cuddle together and Sherlock can tell that John too, is frustrated by how impossible this wish of theirs is. He imagines lessons and trips to scientific museums, laughter and silliness. He imagines family trips and family dinners and a child or more than one child who blends him and John perfectly together forever.

Sherlock stood up suddenly, startling John and nearly knocking him off the sofa. He darted over to his chemistry set. There has to be a way, there has to be a chemical or a scientific way to get a male pregnant. He wants John's baby.


	39. Skintight Jeans

Title: Skintight Jeans

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Rating: PG-13

Word Count:221B

Notes: A number of drabbles ago, Soot introduced me to a youtube video about Sherlock's skintight jeans, apparently this video absorbed itself into my mind, ready to reappear at the right moment. This is for prompt 38.) Jump rope

Living with Sherlock meant not feeling shock all that often about either the detectives strange behaviors or the even stranger things that lurked inside the flat.

The sight that currently greeted him as he came home from work was a wonderfully shocking one. Sherlock was wearing a pair of extremely tight jeans and he was using a jump rope.

He was facing away from John so John was treated to the sight of a frankly magnificent bum as Sherlock continued jumping rope.

Jump, tightened muscles, Oh god yes! John watched the proceedings, not caring that he was standing there just staring at his flatmate.

"Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to finally jump me?" Sherlock's impatient voice cut through the lusty haze that John's mind was in.

John Watson was not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination. A sexy man with sexy hair, a sexy voice, a sexy arse... well sexy everything, wanted John to jump him...

Was this just an experiment? John looked into Sherlock's anxious face saw desire and love, and all his doubt faded away.

"Oh god yes!" John exclaimed before grabbing Sherlock who had let go of the jump rope and kissing him as he pressed him against the wall, his hand's grabbing that amazing bum.


	40. Never Lose You

Title: Never Lose You

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Rating:PG13ish

Word Count: 400

Notes:Unbetaed. Prompt 39.) Body. Warning: a little angsty. Don't worry will write fluff soon!

I'm in a horrified stupor. I should be examining the crime scene for clues, pointing out everything that is so obvious to me.

However, all I can see is the likeness of the body to my John. The only friend I've ever had in my entire life, the only person I've ever come to trust, my John, is being threatened. All I can think of is what if?

What if I'm called to examine a body one day and it isn't just a likeness of John but my doctor himself?

I run from the scene, barely making it out the doors, before I vomit, choking on bile and my own horror.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade is stunned, having never seen me react to anything with this much emotion.

"I can't..." I manage to get out, even as I pull out my phone and dial a familiar number with hands that are shaking. When did they start to shake?

"John," I whisper as his voice reaches me through the line.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" The phone drops from my still shaking fingers. I don't want to lose John's voice but I can't seem to hold on to anything. I'm losing myself in my own thoughts. I barely register Lestrade picking up my phone and telling John my location.

It could have been hours or days even for all the awareness of time that I have right now, before John shows up.

He gathers me in his arms. He's so warm. I sag against him arranging my head so it's on his chest so that I can hear the steadiness of his heartbeats. His jumper is soft against my cheek. I breathe in deep, breathing in his scent. Tea and comfort.

John is _here_. John is safe. I'll give up the game, give up the cases completely before I allow the threat that Moriarty is clearly making come true.

John will not die before I do. We'll die when we are old, not now, not in London. The death of John Watson will be of natural causes and not anything else.

I become aware that I'm speaking, "Never lose you, never, ever, ever..." I'm saying as I cling to him. His hands are stroking through my hair as he attempts to calm me.

"We're going home," he says.

Home. Home with John. Warmth fills me again. John is here and we're going home.


	41. Poker Face

Title: Poker Face

Word Count:221B

Notes:Unbetaed. Ties into yesterday's drabble. Written for prompt 40.) poker. I'd already written a drabble about poker... so instead you get Sally's thoughts during yesterday's drabble.

I have always loathed and distrusted the freak. The first day I met him, on a difficult case, involving two murdered twin girls, he'd taken one look at the evidence and left, calling the whole thing dull and boring. That was the day I decided that he was a monster and that one day the body that we were standing over would be one Sherlock put there himself.

I hate the fact that I pity him now. We're at a crime scene where the body looks similar to John Watson, the extremely nice guy that lives with Sherlock for some reason and considers Sherlock his friend. I had always assumed that the friendship was one sided that the freak didn't care.

I can't think that now. His poker face is gone. He's showing more emotion than I've ever seen and it's genuine. He's not just faking emotions to get a witness to talk. He's going into shock.

I pity him. I hate him for making me pity him. I especially hate that once more he's proving me wrong, I'd thought when I first saw the body that Sherlock Holmes had begun a murder spree, wrong! I'd thought that he was incapable of caring about anyone, wrong!

I'll never be able to think of him as a heartless freak again, the bastard.


	42. Worth More Than Gold

Unbetaed: Written for prompt: 40: gold. Formatted differently because I'm on my netbook.

**Worth More Than Gold**

John paused as he slowly trudged towards his front door, despite a day of work and distractions to keep his mind from the argument, he wasn't yet ready to go in. He wasn't ready to forgive Sherlock and he wasn't going to able to pretend that yesterday hadn't happened.

Sherlock had lied to him and then put him in a position where if things hadn't gone exactly according to plan, John would have died. John could forgive the second, but not the first, he had trust issues and the one person that he trusted, had lied to him. Sherlock had always been brutally honest with John and that he had lied both infuriated and hurt him.

He opened the door. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, facing the wall, John didn't look to see if he was sleeping or not, he just wanted a cup of tea before heading to his room for the night. He didn't feel like a conversation/argument with Sherlock right now.

Sherlock's chemistry equipment had been moved to draw his attention to the table, which held Sherlock's wallet, his violin, and a note with John's name on it.

_John,_

_I know that what I did was a bit not good, what I don't understand is how to make it right. The internet suggests that I assign a monetary value to your hurt and buy you flowers, jewelry, or some other shiny bauble, so that you know that I'm sorry, but you don't enjoy such things so I'm at a loss._

_Take this. All of my money is in here and the violin is the only other possession I have of value... use them to buy what pleases you, whatever would equal the value of how much I hurt you the other day, whatever it would take for you to forgive me._

_Your friendship is worth more to me than anything and I don't want to lose it. I don't want you to look at me the way you've looked at me since you realized that I had lied... it hurts. _

_Please forgive me._

_Your friend,_

_Sherlock_

John turned towards the living room, where Sherlock was pretending to be asleep.

"Your friendship is worth more to me than anything, too," he began, "You're forgiven, just this once mind..."

Sherlock bounced up, grinning at him,"Dinner?"

John tossed Sherlock his wallet back. "Starved. You're buying though."


	43. Nothing Like The Sun

Title: Nothing Like the Sun

Notes: Prompt 42.) Poetry. Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 is not mine.

The fact that lying here, watching John sleep made Sherlock want to spout poetry was a secret that he would take to the grave.

Tonight, for reasons that escaped him, since not only was John not his mistress but he'd always hated the poem, Sonnet 130 was running through his head.

_My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;_

Even ignoring the obvious fact that John was not a woman and not his mistress, John's eyes were clearly nothing like the sun. The sun was an overly bright and blinding ball of gas, that was dull and boring. Information about the sun was irrelevant data that Sherlock deleted from his hard drive.

John's eyes were bright blue but not blinding and obviously were not balls of gas. They were not dull or boring since his eyes tended to reflect his moods. They could be bright with happiness, clouded with anger, dull with sadness or some variation in between. Any information about John was never irrelevant and was never and would never be deleted from his hard drive.

_I love to hear her speak, yet well I know_ _That music hath a far more pleasing sound;_

Sherlock loved to hear John's voice. He loved all of the different ways John said his name and the way John's voice often reflected the emotions that John was feeling. He loved the way his name could be said in anger, frustration, sadness, fond affection, and millions of other emotions and how always underneath everything else, Sherlock could hear John's love for him.

Here was another place that Shakespeare had it wrong. Music was not more pleasing than the sound of John's voice, not even Sherlock's Stradivarius could play sounds better than the sounds John made when they were making love.

And no sound in the universe could compare to how pleasing a sound John's voice had been, not long after a violent explosion had left Sherlock thinking that John was dead. His voice that day, shaken but alive, was more wondrous than any music.

Sherlock was jolted out of his musings by John waking up. Okay he'd give Shakespeare credit for the line about breath reeking, he thought even as he kissed his husband good morning.


	44. Breathless

Title: Breathless

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 43. cigarettes. There might be a slight break between drabbles as I'm getting ready to go have a tooth pulled and might not be capable of drabbling tomorrow.

As he positioned yet another nicotine patch on his arm, Sherlock longed for a cigarette. It was hard to maintain a smoking habit in London and not worth it, but Sherlock couldn't shake the idea that if he had a cigarette to smoke right now he'd know what to do.

John was dating a nice dull boring girl and was currently at the girl's parents house for dinner. According to his research once this happened marriage was in the cards, and Sherlock didn't want John to get married.

He wanted John to stay here with him.

The door opened John was home early and without the girl. John's face and hands told the story. The girl had been unfaithful, John had found out.

Sherlock didn't know what to do. He got up and pulled John to him, gathering him in a hug. John snuggled in closer to him so he guessed that was the correct response.

Now the question was how to get John to date him and not the next girl to come along?

"You could just ask me," John answered. Apparently he'd said that out loud.

"Fine, will you date me?" Sherlock replied.

"Yes," John said.

Sherlock kissed him, until they were both breathless and sharing the same air between them, perhaps breathing wasn't always boring.


	45. Blood and Blankets Part One

Title: Blood and Blankets Part One

Word Count:221B

Notes: So I ended up getting **five** teeth pulled (which was the original plan but I only had enough money today to pull a few of them, but the dentist wanted them all out (evil impacted wisdom teeth) so out they came. So since I can't sleep despite the drowsy pain killers, for fear of choking on gauze... I've decided to write a drabble or two... or at least try to. This is for prompt 44. arrest

Blood was everywhere, congealing around the pair on the floor.

The paramedics gathered around the pair, recognizing both of them from crime scenes that they'd been at. Sherlock Holmes, the rude one, and Doctor John Watson, the nice one. They took over putting pressure on the bullet wound on his chest as Sherlock slowly moved away allowing them to take over.

Even as he continued chanting, "don't die, don't you dare die, don't you dare," as if his command would keep the doctor in the world of the living.

Once they had John on the stretcher and were rushing him into the ambulance, that's when he went into cardiac arrest. They started the resuscitation process as they finished loading the stretcher and headed for the hospital.

Lestrade went over to talk to Sherlock and attempt to comfort him. He placed an orange blanket on the man's shoulders. Sherlock was in shock this time.

"Were you able to capture the scum that did this?" Sherlock hissed, looking for all the world like a wounded and deadly animal.

Lestrade nodded but chose to distract Sherlock by offering him a ride to the hospital.

The whole time in the hospital and the waiting room, Sherlock was like a marionette with broken strings, as he stared at his hands covered in John's blood.

**To Be Continued. **

Tomorrow as I can finally remove the gauze and get sleep.


	46. Blood and Blankets Part Two

Title: Blood and Blankets Part 2

Word Count:300

Notes: So one of the extraction sites is still being stubborn and bloody so I can't get the rest I want. So here is the answer to prompt 45.) drown

Sherlock was drowning and the only one who knew how to throw him a life preserver was currently away. His mind first said he was gone but he couldn't be gone. Sherlock had never thanked John for being his friend, for being loyal, for taking care of Sherlock, for caring... for being his brave perfect John.

In the waiting room, Sherlock kept staring at his hands that were still coated in blood because he wouldn't leave to wash them not for anyone. He wouldn't leave this room until he knew how John was and after that he wouldn't leave John until it was time for them to go home.

They would go home. The two of them in their flat, laughing together as John made Sherlock watch classic crap telly and Sherlock made fun of it. The two of them talking about everything and anything, knowing that the wouldn't be belittled or teased for their thoughts. The two of them, as it should be.

They were a pair. They were Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. They were like protons and neutrons, trigonometry and calculus...

He couldn't go back to how he was before. He'd thought that he was content that he didn't need anyone but then John had come into his life and proven him wrong and shattered the walls around his heart and soul.

He needed John. He needed the way John could effortless swim through not only his own emotions but Sherlock's as well. The way that even when Sherlock was in the blackest of moods, John could pull him out it and into smiling. His John, the sun in which his solar system revolved around.

John had been in surgery for thirteen hours and Sherlock was drowning without him.

'Wake up soon, John' Sherlock thought, 'I can't cope without you.'


	47. Blood and Blankets Part Three

Title: Blood and Blankets part 3

Word Count:221B

Notes: Wasn't certain if I'd get another one in because I feel terrible but while I'm up and waiting for my husband to wake up and run to the store to get us some food I can actually eat... I figured I might as well write the drabble for prompt 46. dare. One or two more of these before I move onto a new storyline I think...(I can't leave Sherlock angsting like this forever. He needs a hug and his John.)

Sherlock was now into the eighteenth hour of waiting for the doors to open and for the surgeon to appear with news about his John. His entire focus was on staring at the door, willing it to open, as his mind yelled at John and for John...

_Don't you dare die, John. If you die, I'll be all alone. I'll be lost without you. Lost without my blogger. Can't you see that I need you? _

John had let him know that he would be working late on paperwork in his office at the surgery, so Sherlock had gone to John's office, since he was bored and annoying John while he was busy, until John gave up and said his name with an exasperated tone and agreed to have dinner with him, was more fun than brooding on the couch.

He had been in the restroom. He'd annoyed John and gotten the exasperated tone and agreement, but John explained that he really needed to finish this last set of papers and that it would only take a few minutes.

He heard the loud clanging noise of the main doors being kicked open.

"You bastard!" he heard a man shout at John. Sherlock ran towards John's office. "You got them coppers to take my daughter away!"

There was a loud bang.


	48. Blood and Blankets Part Four

Title: Blood and Blankets Part Four

Word Count:318

Notes: Written for prompt 48. Vampire. Don't know if I'll continue this or just leave it here. Any thoughts?

18 hours and 45 minutes, into his wait and Sherlock was no longer alone in the waiting room. He wished that he was, because the strange woman who was sitting next to him, (unhappily married, at least three children, and looking for a new boyfriend) was possibly the most annoying person he'd ever had the misfortune of listening to.

She was babbling on about some story about werewolves and vampires, and Sherlock just wanted her to shut up. He wanted to tell her to shut it, but his conscience, that thing that he'd only developed really once he'd met John and that had a tendency to sound like the doctor, told him it was a bit not good and that she was probably worried and anxious about someone too.

Despite the warnings from his conscience, he was ready to let lose with a nice explosion of words and a good tirade, when a doctor opened the doors and spoke.

"The family of John Watson?" he asked.

"I am, yes," Sherlock said.

The doctor proceeded to explain in annoyingly vague details about John's condition:critical and status:alive... before he got to the most important part. Where John was now.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock was at John's side. John was pale, hooked up to machines that were doing most of his living for him.

John was unconscious which was probably a good thing, since the pain would be almost unbearable if he were awake. However the sight of John lying so still and frail on the hospital bed, hooked up to those machines was unbearable to Sherlock.

He stroked John's hand with one of his, as he caressed John's forehead with the other, willing life into his friend's frail frame.

"Wake up soon," he demanded, "please." Please was supposedly a magic word, and Sherlock would take any chance however improbable that led to John waking up.


	49. Blood and Blankets Part Five

Title:Blood and Blankets Five

Word Count:221B

Notes: Unbetaed: prompt 48.) Vampire

John's eyes slowly blinked open as he took in his surroundings. He'd already known by the dulled pain sensation of the painkillers, the sounds, and the smells that he was in the hospital, although the reason why was escaping him.

He was tired and everything felt fuzzy. Sherlock was sitting in a chair, sleeping, although he clearly wasn't getting enough it, since his eyes had dark purple circles underneath them. He was clasping John's hand.

Memory hit him then. He'd been at work doing paperwork, Sherlock had shown up to annoy him, and they were going to get food once John was done with this last form. There had been a loud noise, the door, and then a man had shouted and shot him.

Sherlock had held him as he was fading. John squeezed Sherlock's hand lightly. He remembered the horror on Sherlock's face, and he wanted him to know that he was alright.

Sherlock's eyes opened and he startled for a moment, before relaxing. His face lit up in a huge euphoric smile. "John," he breathed out.

"You look like a vampire," John observed, mostly to make Sherlock laugh. His throat was dry and scratchy. Sherlock handed him some chipped ice, even as Sherlock shook with giggles from John's joke.

Sherlock managed to gasp out, "Welcome Back."


	50. Here Be Monsters

Title: Here Be Monsters

Word Count:200

Notes: Unbetaed. Prompt 49. Monster. Angst sorry!

It was a miserable horrid hateful day. There were no interesting crimes for him to solve, his latest experiment was not working and had created an acid that had burned a hole in the table...

As he heard John come up the stairs with the shopping, part of him cried out for John not to come upstairs, because if John came upstairs he would trigger...

John opened the door and without warning, without giving the man a chance to speak, or to put the groceries down, Sherlock's temper exploded.

He screamed at the other man. Screamed vile, hurtful, and untrue things at his only friend.

John didn't respond back. His eyes went dead. He dropped the groceries on the floor, uncaring as the eggs shattered.

He turned and limped downstairs and out into the cold London air.

Sherlock stared at the groceries on the floor as his temper left him. John... he'd hurt John... he was a monster. A sociopath, a monster, who had hurt the only friend he'd ever had.

John would never forgive him. Their friendship was more shattered than the eggs on the floor. He would be alone with no one to care for him forever now.


	51. Cuts Like A Knife

Title: Cuts Like A Knife

Word Count: 221B

Notes: Companion to earlier drabble: Here Be Monsters. Skipped a prompt so this is 51.) Knife. Tomorrow will be fluff, I'm tired of angst. :-)

Normally, when Sherlock got angry at John, John just snarked back and headed out for a few hours to cool off before returning home, but today had hurt worse than ever before.

Sherlock hadn't just targeted his blog, called him an idiot, or insulted his intelligence, Sherlock had instead targeted his alcoholic sister, his post traumatic stress disorder, his psychosomatic limp, called him a pathetic sniveling weakling and told him that he hated him.

He'd dropped the groceries to the floor and fled his home. He didn't know what to do. His hands were trembling, he was limping, he didn't know where to go and he hurt.

His best friend had hurt him without any warning, he didn't know what he'd done to make his friend hate him. His heart was wounded... he wanted to cry... he felt alone.

He sat on a park bench, not seeing any of his surroundings.

Hours went by and John sat undisturbed until a very familiar face sat down next to him. John turned and looked into Sherlock's gray eyes, reading the emotions in them. Sherlock was pale, his eyes looked like he'd been crying, and his eyes showed remorse, guilt, pain and fear.

They sat there in silence for a few long moments.

Finally, Sherlock said, "I'm sorry I was such a bastard."


	52. Valentine's Day Surprises

Title: Valentine's Day Surprises

Word Count:400

Notes: Fluff! Written for prompt 50, Valentine.

There were a dozen roses and an off white note on the kitchen table. The roses were a mix of reds, yellows, pinks, and blues. Sherlock stared at them. He didn't reach for the note yet because he wanted to deduce who they were from.

There was only one person that he could think of that had expressed an interest in him that would come up to his apartment to leave a gift.

Sherlock sighed dramatically in disappointment and flounced away in order to brood on the couch. He didn't want the roses to be from Moriarty, he wanted them to be from John. But John was straight and had a date tonight with his latest girlfriend, after Sarah, Amy, Laura, Ashley... Sherlock accepted the fact that they would all be boring, dull, and that it wouldn't be worth it to learn their names.

His cellphone chimed. Mycroft. He was bored enough to read it: _Wrong! It's not Moriarty. Read the note, little brother. MH_

His pout increased, not only was he wrong, but apparently he hadn't disabled all of the cameras in the flat like he'd thought.

He walked over to the note and opened it, John's handwriting filled a small portion of the page.

_I've been wondering what would have happened that day if I'd answered that I was interested rather than insisting that I was not, when you went off on your speech about being married to your work._

_I am interested. I've fallen in love with you. _

_If you feel the same, and you'd like a relationship, meet me where we sat that day at 6:00._

_If you don't show I'll know that you are not interested and I'll never bring this up again. Hopefully in that case, we can keep our friendship._

_John._

Sherlock quickly showered and got dressed. It was only 2:00 in the afternoon but he was going to leave for Angelo's anyways. There was no way he was going to chance something distracting him, or otherwise preventing him from being there at Six.

John, the person that he was in love with, loved him in return and had bravely made a move. He wasn't going to risk losing this chance.

Sherlock sat in the table, facing away from the street and waited for John to show up.

When John showed up half and hour early, there eyes met and all nervousness fled from both of them, as they knew that their feeling were returned.


	53. He Wished It Was

Title: He Wished it was...

Word Count:300

Notes: Written for prompt 52. ball.

Sherlock scanned the crowd. It was one of Mycroft's masked holiday balls that he'd gotten forced into attending in exchange for a favor.

This wouldn't have been so bad if John would have been able to make it because then he'd at least have his best friend to talk to.

But no, John had been called away to his sister's place yesterday, so Sherlock was left alone to enjoy the tedium for at least three hours, that being the number of hours that his brother required his presence before he could leave.

A man of similar build to John and of John's height stood before him. For a second, Sherlock hoped that it would be John, but he knew that it couldn't be.

"May I have this dance?" the man asked. The voice was slightly deeper than John's voice.

Sherlock was torn. On one hand this would be as close as he might ever get to dancing with his crush, on the other hand it wasn't actually John.

They danced, talked, and laughed for hours. Like John, his mystery man was easy to talk to and didn't seem to mind his oddities. His mystery man's code name was Hamish, a name that seemed familiar to him but that he couldn't place. He wished it was John.

Finally it was time for the unveiling. Both of them removed their masks, it was John looking out at him from the other mask. John, who didn't seem shocked that it was him. John, who was cupping his cheek and kissing him.

He broke out of his shocked stupor and kissed John back deeply and passionately, running his fingers through John's cropped locks as John ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls.

"Let's go home," John said when they finally broke for air.


	54. Sleepy Time Cuddles

Title:Sleepy Time Cuddles

Word Count:221B

Notes: Might not be my best work, I'm exhausted and I just want sleep but I've got to finish this drabble first... written for prompt 53. Pillow Fight.

John had no idea how the great pillow fight had started. One minute he was laying in bed annoyed that one of his reservations at the hotel had been canceled due to a computer glitch, and thus he had to share a room with the hyperactive Sherlock, the next minute he was whacking Sherlock in the face with a pillow.

Oh wait, John remembered now it was 3 am and Sherlock wouldn't stop talking so that John could get some sleep before they had to be up at 6am for a meeting involving the case.

Regardless, Sherlock grabbed a pillow and hit him back and the great pillow fight had started. It ended thirty minutes later, the pillows, surprisingly not damaged, with the two of them giggling laying collapsed on the bed, soon they were most of the way asleep and practically cuddling.

Sherlock was warm and surprisingly, given how slender and bony he looked, pleasant to cuddle against, John's exhausted mind drifted pleasantly back into sleep. His last thoughts were a wish that Sherlock would caress his hair more often, it was very nice.

John cursed when the alarm clock went off, he wanted more sleep and he wanted it now. Sherlock ran his hand through John's hair, leaned down kissed his forehead before commanding, "go back to bed."

**Now I'm off to enjoy my own sleepy time cuddles, although I might not whack my husband in the face with a pillow. :-P**


	55. Something Missing

Title: Something Missing

Word Count: 100

Notes: Written for prompt 54: disappearance. Don't panic this will be continued tomorrow. I just didn't have enough time today to write a longer piece...

Sherlock was disoriented, they'd been in a building when the criminal they were after had pressed a button and there had been an explosion of fire and sound. His ears were ringing, he was uninjured and on the ground but something wasn't right.

John! Suddenly, as if just thinking his lover's name was enough to jolt everything in place, Sherlock's mind reoriented itself. John had been a few feet away from him.

Sherlock ignored logic and ran into the burning and partially collapsed building... where John had been was a bunch of debris. John was missing. Where was his lover?


	56. Sherlock's Sanity Law

Title: Law of the Preservation of Sherlock's Sanity

Word Count:400

Notes: Written for prompt 55 law.

What was happening now was against the law (the scientific definition of something that can not ever be disobeyed like gravity) John not being here in the aftermath of yet another close call, Sherlock not knowing where John was...

Sherlock's mind referred to this law as the Law of the preservation of Sherlock's Sanity and right now Sherlock's mind was close to collapse.

John wasn't here. He sprinted to the remains of the building, part of it was still standing, and he didn't care about the criminal that had gotten away, Sherlock hadn't even thought of him until now. He cared about John.

John had to still be alive. His lover couldn't be dead. Where would he be without his heart?

He was at the building, the Scotland Yard that had shown up was trying to keep him from searching, well they had been until Sherlock had screamed in Lestrade's face that John had been with him and that when the bomb had gone off John had suddenly not been with him. Apparently, everyone listens to an out of control sociopath in shock because then he was allowed to join in the search for survivors.

Sherlock had nearly skewered Anderson when he'd refereed to it as a search for corpses but he hadn't had to since Lestrade and surprisingly Donavan had verbally skewered him. Then again maybe it wasn't surprising, John did things like remember birthdays and being friendly, all of the things Sherlock preferred to avoid.

He dug through the wreckage with his hands, his head and his eyes were failing him, he couldn't seem to observe... his mind was in a state of panic.

Wait, there, blood. Near the corner of the room where John might have been pushed with the blast.

He pushed the debris out of the way. John lay, still as death, on his stomach, and there was a lot of blood pooled underneath him. Sherlock called for the others, even as he raised a shaking, trembling, hand to touch his lover's wrist.

There was a pulse. It was weak and unsteady but there still was one. The paramedics rushed in and Sherlock was herded away by Lestrade as the medical team began to tend John.

Hours later, John was finally out of surgery and Sherlock was at his side waiting for him to wake up. It was almost enough to make him want a less dangerous life, one without bombs or bullets.


	57. Envy of the Horse

Title: Envy of the Horse

Word Count: 221B

Notes: Written for prompt 56. Horse.

It's been three months since John was assaulted by a convicted felon out of jail and looking for revenge and my John still isn't the same. If it wasn't for the weekends, he'd never leave the flat, but just stay in his depressed state. I'm losing him, I fear.

On the weekends, especially if I had a case that required a lot of chasing and manpower, the things that he could not do with me anymore, John takes a train and goes out into the countryside to a horse farm that specializes in therapy animals.

He gets helped onto a horse, since his leg and spine injuries prevented him from getting on the horse without assistance and then he lets the horse run. I envy the horse a little when I watch the surveillance videos that Mycroft sends me (since John's attack, I need to know that he's safe when he leaves my sight), the horse receives more of John's smiles than I do.

I miss John's smiles and laughter. I miss John running with me. I miss John. The cases aren't worth it anymore, I'm lost without my blogger.

I've decided to go into a semi-retirement (on call for the truly interesting cases). I'll buy a house in the country. John can own a horse and I shall keep bees.


	58. John In Wonderland

Title: John In Wonderland

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 57. hat. Blame the movie that's playing in the background for this.

Before he finally shared the secret of his favorite movie, I had to swear that I would neither blog it or laugh at him.

By this time I was imagining all sorts of movies that Sherlock might consider humiliating, which was hard to do because Sherlock didn't get embarrassed very easily at all, and he deleted all pop culture references for the most part so it wasn't likely that it was one of those things that you like a lot but you won't admit it because it's considered lame...

It was Alice In Wonderland, the new live action one. It had been playing while we were both in the hospital recovering from the pool incident, and Sherlock used the movie as a distraction as he sat by my bedside watching me recover from my more serious injuries, while I spent most of my time sleeping the sleep of potent pain killers.

The movie was both interesting and engaging and helped him forget for a while that I was still in critical condition.

His favorite character was Hatter so I arranged his costume for the Halloween party, a complete costume that he looked amazing in, especially wearing the battered old top hat, tied with a ribbon.

I refused to dress as a woman so instead I wore a suit in Alice blue.


	59. Moonlit Plans

Title: Moonlit Plans

Word Count:324

Notes: Sorry about the lack of drabble yesterday, I had a really bad migraine, luckily it went away by this afternoon as I had a trig test. Written for prompt 58.) Moonlight

Sherlock sighed from his brooding spot as he stared at the hateful hideous moon that was shining down into the room from the window.

John was still out on his date. He didn't have a case and hadn't had one in two days so he was getting bored. Above all he was getting lonely.

It was almost 10pm. Was John staying over? Didn't he know that after John being kidnapped and strapped to high explosives, he'd prefer to know where John was and his plans.

Honestly, for all his talk that Sherlock didn't follow social niceties, John could be bloody inconsiderate sometimes.

Just as Sherlock was about to text him, John came through the door.

Before Sherlock could snark at him his mind told him all the things that proved that John had not had a goodnight.

He was exhausted, he wasn't quite limping (a sign of emotional distress) but he was close, there was a bruise forming on his eye...

Sherlock stopped his analysis went to the freezer and got a bag of frozen vegetables and a towel, which he then handed the doctor, after first running his fingers against the bruise and demanding to know who hit him.

"Sarah did," John said, "When I broke up with her, after she asked me to chose between her or my friendship with you, lost my job too."

Part of Sherlock wanted to jump up and rejoice. No more Sarah! But that part was tempered by the fact that John was hurt, she had hurt John, that was unacceptable.

Sherlock pushed John into the sofa, arranged some pillows underneath him, tossed a blanket over him and brought him some tea.

Once John feel asleep, Sherlock spent the rest of the night watching John sleep in the moonlight and making plans.

John's place was by his side. John should be discouraged from dating others. John should date him, that way they were always together.


	60. Loud As The Hell You Want

Title: Loud as The Hell You Want

Word Count:100

Notes: Unbetaed. Prompt 59.) Scream. Title comes from an Avenue Q Song...

Martha Hudson was delighted that both of her boys had finally gotten together. She'd gotten tired of the pining looks, the awkward flirting, the barely hidden jealousy, and the way they would pretend that they weren't in love with each other.

Yes, she was delighted that that John and Sherlock were finally dating. But did they have to be so loud?

The walls were thin and she could hear every scream of pleasure that they made. John, was apparently quite skilled since Sherlock's "Oh John..." was the most repeated sound.

She just wished they wouldn't drown out the telly.


	61. Feline Behaviors

Title: Feline Behaviors

Word Count:200

Notes: Written for prompt 60.) kinky but surprisingly it's not pervy.

John has one way of making sure that Sherlock falls asleep when he's gone for days without any rest, for a case. John has given up hope that one day Sherlock will realize that the human body actually needs rest and that even a brief nap might actually make him more efficient.

John will sit down on the couch, turn on the telly and pay attention to it and not the genius detective in the room.

Unable to cope with that, the genius detective will heave a dramatic sigh before flouncing down on the remaining couch space. When that doesn't give the desired reaction he'll position his head so that it's laying in John's lap.

He'll then slowly drift off to sleep as John runs his fingers through Sherlock's inky black curls. He'll usually fall asleep with a rare content smile on his face.

John will never tell Sherlock that he once had a cat that exhibited similar behaviors although he does frequently think of Sherlock as a sleek graceful feline, full of pride and in need of worshipful attention.

He'd never even put the comparison in his blog. Sherlock would be unbearable, all pouts and wounded dignity for at least a week.


	62. Pajamas

Title: Pajamas

Word Count:100

Notes: Dead tired. Hope I spelled the words correctly. Unbetaed. I'd like to thank everyone that's added this story and reviewed! Comments are appreciated even when I lack time to reply back!

He'd found them wedged deep in his closet, a gift from his sister that he'd never worn. However, he couldn't sleep and wanted a cup of tea and even though his flatmate was absorbed in case, he might notice if John walked to the kitchen in the nude, and all of his other pajama pants were in the hamper.

After he walked downstairs, made his tea, and saw the appreciative glance Sherlock was giving his body, he vowed to wear navy blue silk pajama pants more often. Every night, if Sherlock was going to stare at his arse like that.


	63. Any Objections

Title:Any Objections?

Word Count:221B

Notes:Unbetaed. Written for prompt 62.) priest

I stood at John's side both of us wearing tuxes. He was clearly nervous barely refraining from tugging on his sleeve, but he was smiling and looking toward where she would be walking down the aisle.

The priest stood at the ready. The music started and the walk that would lead to my broken heart and complete devastation began.

She walked up the aisle. I tried not to hate her. I couldn't do it. She wasn't worthy of my John. I hadn't been able to find anything that I could prove but I was certain that she didn't love my John as dearly as I did. No one could.

The priest asked if anyone had any objections. I tried not to scream out my objections, I was his best man after all...

"Sherlock, Sherlock!" John was shaking me awake. I had fallen asleep on the sofa.

"You were screaming that you objected, what on Earth were you dreaming?" John asked.

Should I tell him? No... he would. He might not feel the same about me. What if by telling him I lost him? However what if by not telling him, I also lost him?

"You are not allowed to get married, ever," I commanded. John laughed and gave me a smile that left me struggling to catch my breath.


	64. Purple Elephants On Parade

Title: Purple Elephants On Parade

Word Count:221B

Notes: I blame Dumbo for the fact that I get dancing elephants when I have a high fever... I had to inflict it on poor John. Prompt is Firelight. Tomorrow will be a continuation of this I think. I'm never certain until I open the blank document and start typing.

As soon as John got better he was going to prove all the Yarders fears wrong, because Sherlock wasn't going to murder him, he was going to murder Sherlock.

It was all that bastard's fault that John was sick on the sofa with a violent flu that could turn into pneumonia, with his body also fighting an infection from the knife wound in his leg, and his body fighting off the antidote to the poison that had been in the dart that had hit him in the neck.

Yes, as soon as the chills, fever, dancing purple elephants on parade, ended he was going to ring his best friend's neck for not having the courtesy to alert him of the death threat, before he'd gone out.

Three Sherlocks appeared before him, John wondered if he could strangle the right one or if he'd hit the ones that weren't there.

Suddenly, he was picked up blankets and all and arranged on the sofa which was made up into a bed, near the fireplace that was on despite the fact that it was summer.

He was arranged gently, his bandages were changed, a hot water bottle was placed on his abdomen.

He was being carefully tended to from his so called best friend who was nervously and carefully wrapping John in warm blankets.


	65. Without a Map

Title: Without a Map

Word Count:221B

Notes: Continued from yesterday's drabble: Purple Elephants On Parade. Written for Prompt 64.) Map.

Friendship, was a lot like trying to navigate around London without a built in map in his head telling him where to go. It was his fault they were in this situation and it was his guilt that was choking him now.

John was seriously ill, in the should be in the hospital (but it was to dangerous with the people that were trying to kill them still at large) illness range.

Mycroft had arranged a safe house for them and a doctor that checked in on them.

The doctor had tried to take over the care of Sherlock's Doctor but Sherlock had growled and the woman had backed off.

She now just checked in on them every hour, monitoring John's floundering vitals and making notes on a file.

Sherlock had wanted to chuck her out all together when she started saying that John would die.

John couldn't die.

Not from this, not like this, not because Sherlock had been to egotistical to tell his best friend about the threats that had made against him. Not because Sherlock had failed to keep John safe. His doctor was a survivor, he'd make it through this.

He was still feverish, delusional, sweating and shivering. Sherlock changed John's bandages and bundled him in fresh blankets.

He stroked a shaking hand across John's fevered brow.


	66. In the Park

Title: In the Park

Word Count:221B

Notes: Continued from the previous two drabbles, written for prompt 65.) toys.

The part of Sherlock's active mind that remained active even when he dreamed, reminded him that this wasn't real.

John and Sherlock weren't young children in the park, laughing together and playing on the swings. He'd never had friends as a child and both Sherlock and John were grown up now and John was...

Then his mind rebelled and shut the active part off...

Sherlock tugged at John's sleeve, tugging him away from the sports game and the people that were calling to him, "don't go there, come play with me!"

His best friend giggled and took his hand, "Okay, what will we play?"

Sherlock pulled out a chess game and they began to play. Sherlock chose black, John chose white. They played for hours, laughing, and even after John won all three times, Sherlock didn't get angry.

John ignored all those who called for him to leave, friends, even his father and his mother.

Finally night began to fall, Sherlock gathered his best friend in a hug, "Don't leave me John. I love you. Don't ever leave me," he begged. His mind was coming back. In the real world, John was dying...

"Of course I won't leave you, I love you, idiot," John answered.

The dream shattered around them. In the real world, John's fever broke.


	67. Sherlock's Whole Existence

Title: Sherlock's Whole Existence

Word Count: 300

Notes: Apparently I had one more drabble left in me for this arc...

Even now that the army doctor's fever had broken and he was beginning to recover from his injuries, Mycroft knew better than to try and get Sherlock's mind refocused on the case.

No, when it came to John Watson, there were things more important than the case to Sherlock, and his brother wouldn't leave the man for anything, right now. Not when he'd come so close to losing his only friend, to death. The doctor that Mycroft had hired hadn't been able to work miracles and had been certain in fact, that John Watson would die.

Mycroft hadn't believed it. The only person more stubborn than his brother, was Doctor John Watson.

Which was good because the good doctor needed a lot of stubbornness to live with Sherlock.

As soon as John was well, Sherlock's mind would focus once more on the case, and would ensure the capture and death (if they had wanted to live, they shouldn't have tried to kill John) of those who had been hunting them, so that they could leave the safe house.

For now, Sherlock's whole existence was focused on spooning soup into John's mouth, or changing his blankets, or fetching him water, or keeping him entertained.

There wasn't any case in the universe, not even the famed Jack the Ripper Case and a time machine, that would drag Sherlock away from John's side right now.

Mycroft grinned as he gathered more information, perhaps he'd solve most of the case while Sherlock was distracted, John always seemed so amused during their fights, and the good doctor could use a laugh after this.

Plus if Sherlock got to distressed and pouty perhaps they would actually become boyfriends rather than best friends.

Then they could make a happy announcement and Mummy would be so very pleased.


	68. No Good Very Bad Day

Title:No Good, Very Bad, Day

Word Count:300

Notes: Sorry Sherlock but I've had an awful day and John's suffered to much recently so it's your turn! Written for prompt 67.) Tattoo.

Today had been abysmal. Despite actually sleeping for once, he hadn't slept well, and when the alarm had gone off it causing his heart to beat a tattoo in his ribs.

He'd barely caught his ride to the crime scene he'd been called to investigate.

After spending two minutes looking around the scene, he'd solved the crime and it had been disgustingly easy.

However, when he'd reached into his pocket for his phone to call his ride, so that he could go back to the hotel and make arrangements to go home, his faithful phone was not where it belonged.

So he'd walked to the hotel since the people at the crime scene that he'd insulted were hardly going to let him use theirs, and it was miserably hot and humid.

The last thing he ever wanted to do was go back to Florida, even if Sarasota, did have a number of things that would be interesting to see if a certain doctor was with him.

So he got back to the hotel, found his trusty phone in the pocket of yesterday's pants, and tried to find a way home.

No flights out that he could catch for at least three more days.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to be home. Where Mrs. Hudson made food and tea, which she always provided despite her protests, that she was not their housekeeper, where John was there to be calm and soothing, to provide him with laughter and a sense of belonging.

Or if he couldn't be at home, he wanted John to be here. There was a knock on the door, once Sherlock heard the voice on the other end he threw open the door.

It was John. Sherlock pressed him against the door, once it was shut, and snogged him.


	69. Cooking and Chemistry

Title:Cooking and Chemistry

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 68. candlelight

Damn and blast! Cooking was nothing more than chemistry. This should be nothing more than yet another successful experiment, although one that would make his flatmate happy rather than annoyed and one the didn't involve decomposition or crime solving.

He waved a cloth at the fire detector again, he thought he'd disabled it but Mrs. Hudson, John, or Mycroft must have reactivated it, bloody wet blankets, the lot of them.

Then he tossed out his two failed experiments and tried once more. This time he would be completely focused, he wouldn't let anything distract him, he turned off his phone, rerolled his floured sleeves and got to work.

When John got home from work, he had a few surreal moments where he wondered if he'd somehow landed in the twilight zone because he certainly wasn't home. The flat was clean. Sherlock's belongings were neatly put away. The kitchen was clean and smelled of lemon cleaner rather than off Sherlock's experiments.

Sherlock and John enjoyed a lovely Tikka Masala curry and John finally asked Sherlock what this was all about.

Sherlock responded by bringing out a chocolate cake with several candles.

John's eyes went wide, his birthday? Had he really forgotten?

Sherlock lit the candles, "I can't believe you forgot your own birthday," he said before starting to sing, Happy Birthday.


	70. Jumper Love

Title:Jumper Love

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 69.) Blindfold.

Sherlock arranged the blindfold around his own eyes carefully. He relied a lot on his sight for his observations, using his other senses, as secondary senses, and he needed to make sure that they too were sharp. What if he were blinded by an accident or an experiment gone wrong?

He walked carefully through the flat, noting the smells, and the sounds. Knowing how often he used toxic chemicals he refrained from trying to taste anything.

He was running his hand along the back of the sofa, when he felt the jumper draped against it. Soft comfortable wool, a soothing texture, he held to his nose and took a whiff.

Tea, rubbing alcohol from work, more tea, the smell of John's soap and deodorant, and the smell of John. The smell of home and safety, he was rubbing his face against the jumper wishing John was back from the family emergency that had held him for three days.

But what he could he deduce from this? The jumper hadn't been on the sofa before he'd put on the blindfold, had it?

Had he really not heard John's steps up to the door or the door opening? Had he really been that focused?

He took of the blindfold but there was no one there. Sherlock sat pouting on the couch feeling bereft.


	71. Nightmares

Title: Nightmares

Word Count: 500

Notes: written for prompt 70.) piercing

The piercing scream echoed throughout the flat and John got up quickly, throwing his own blankets off him so hard they hit the wall.

It was happening again. In the two months, since John had been able to leave the hospital after having shrapnel impale his organs and nearly dying, Sherlock had a nightmare every time he feel asleep.

John had been lucky in the aftermath of Moriarty's Pool Party, he'd been unconscious. Sherlock on the other hand, had been mostly uninjured and had been aware of everything. Of John bleeding out from multiple wounds, of John's fading pulse, of John flat lining before the paramedics got him in the ambulance... of just how close John had come to being a body in a morgue.

That last realization had made Sherlock a little less likely to randomly raid parts from the morgue, since the idea of some scientist doing things with John's body parts if he'd lost his John, made him realize how others might feel. John hated this last bit, yes he appreciated the fact that Sherlock was beginning to understand why it was a bit not good to just go raiding the morgue, but he disliked the signs that something was wrong with Sherlock. He wanted his delightfully mad flat mate back. He missed him.

Sherlock was still wailing, when John made it downstairs, cursing his not quite psychosomatic limp for making him take so long.

He walked up to Sherlock and began to ease him into wakefulness. Just walking to him and trying to get him to awaken was asking for a broken nose and a guilty Sherlock, John knew. Mycroft, of all people had tried that and earned a broken nose.

He used his voice first, "Sherlock, it's me. I'm here. We're safe. We're both safe and alive. We're home..."

Once Sherlock began to register that, he began with a slow caress of Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock fell into awareness with a start. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. John gathered him up and held him for a while, allowing his Sherlock (and really no other word fit for what Sherlock was to him: flat mate, friend, colleague, none of them said enough, and they were not lovers...) to listen to the sturdy thrum of his heartbeat.

"Come here," he said, tugging Sherlock's hand lightly and guiding him upstairs.

They lay down together on John's bed, sharing his pillows and blankets and talking softly until they eased into sleep.

They woke up hours later refreshed and nightmare free.

The next time Sherlock needed to rest, he stood at John's doorway, shuffling his hips nervously,

"Can I sleep with you?"

John made room for him on the bed. They fell asleep together that night too. When on the third night of sleeping wrapped around one another, Sherlock woke him up with a good morning kiss, it didn't seem awkward or anything other than the way it was supposed to be.

Soon, Sherlock was back to his mad scientist self.


	72. Eggs, Obscenities and Toast

Title: Eggs, Obscenities, and Toast

Word Count: 221B

Notes: Title sounds like what I'm going to have for breakfast tomorrow. I've got a lot of homework to do, and I haven't been able to get a decent nights sleep since they switched my meds a week and not quite a half ago... Prompt 71.) Touch.

There had been no awkward conversations, no fumbling confessions, no their relationship had started with one simple action.

Sherlock had taken a taxi cab to the cafe. The picture Mycroft had sent had told him everything. John had been upset, his hands trembling. Harriet Watson was drunk at 8am in the morning, screaming obscenities at her younger brother. Harriet had lied about recovery, instead she was out to borrow more money for her addiction.

Sherlock had walked up without saying all the things he'd like to the screaming harpy and took John's hand.

John's warm hand, which began to still at Sherlock's touch. John's hand which was not soft but was smooth, which had a firm but pleasing grip on Sherlock's bonier and longer hands.

He didn't respond to Harriet's insults. He walked out of the cafe, Sherlock's hand in his, leaving Harry Watson to her eggs, obscenities, and toast.

When they got home, it had been natural to stroke his fingers through John's silky and soft hair, to pull John close to him so that they were pressed against one another and kiss those soft, plump lips, (that frequently drew his attention due to John's subconscious habit of licking his lips) and to touch all of the silken skin that he could reach.

Without a word, they had become boyfriends.


	73. He Had Been Missed

Title: He Had Been Missed

Word Count:221B

Notes: This drabble is an AU continuation of a previous drabble (Jumper Love) which a few people mentioned how much they wished John had been there. This is written for prompt 73.) smell. (Skipped 72 for now since I have a tummy bug and the idea of writing about the taste of things is very unappealing.)

Seeing Sherlock like that was a surprise, not Sherlock wearing a tie as a blindfold, stumbling around the flat as he tried to train up his senses, that John had seen him do.

But for Sherlock to not have heard him come in or shut the door, he must be really distracted. John decided to stay quiet and see how long it took Sherlock to notice him.

John had discarded his jumper since it was hotter than he'd like in the flat and draped it over the sofa. He didn't want to go to his room since he couldn't remember which floorboard squeaked.

Sherlock taking a quick whiff of the jumper would not have been a shock, but Sherlock practically inhaling the jumper, while looking so lost and lonely, that was.

Watching Sherlock take off the tie, toss it to the ground and then leap over the sofa almost to get to where John was standing was gratifying. To think that Sherlock had implied that he wouldn't miss or notice that John was gone, well clearly he'd been missed!

The hug was also surprising but John enjoyed it. Taking a minute to breathe in the smell of chemicals, fancy soap and the smell of Sherlock that John associated with home, danger, and excitement.

Sherlock attempted nonchalant, "Ah, John, Welcome back."


	74. Tea and Toast

Title:Tea and Toast

Word Count: 221B

Notes: Written for prompt 72.) Taste

They had been running on pure adrenaline and John hadn't realized that it had been three days without sleep or food, until after the criminal was caught and he'd passed out onto the sidewalk.

He'd come to as Sherlock was carrying up the stairs to his room, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson scolding him for not taking better care of John.

His temper frayed, John had snapped at the two that he wasn't Sherlock's pet and that they could leave now.

They had left and John had made it clear that it wasn't Sherlock's fault and then an obviously worried Sherlock had left to hopefully seek out his own rest.

In the morning as he was enjoying the fact that he didn't have to get up, there was a light tap on the door, Sherlock appeared with a plate of buttered toast with strawberry jam and a cup of tea.

"Here, don't want my blogger passing out again," he said.

The toast was fantastic. It almost tasted better than toast should as his body reminded him that this was the first thing he'd eaten in three days...

The tea on the other hand, as John choked it down, he made a note to teach Sherlock how to brew a proper cup of tea, as it was over steeped and extremely bitter.


	75. Favorite Sights

Title: Favorite Sights

Word Count: 600 words

Notes: This is the drabble that's been playing in my head for days! It's prompt 74.) Sight

It started with a comment on his website wanting to know what his favorite sight was. Sherlock had deduced that the man meant site and left a scathing reply about spelling but the question itself had lodged in his mind. It wouldn't leave him alone. He took out an old leather journal that he wrote in sporadically and began to write.

_My favorite sight is John throughout the day. There is first thing in the morning John, who shambles into the kitchen, hair messy and eyes unfocused, his whole mind focused on a cup of tea. Trying to help him in this process by having the kettle already heated, seems to overwhelm his sleep filled mind and confuse him so now I just observe. He goes shirtless a lot these days. I know from overhearing an argument with one of his girlfriends that I'm the only one who's allowed to seem him shirtless, because of the scars, not even his lovers can boast that._

_The scar, the one that I both hate and love. I hate it because it shows me just how close I came to losing John before I even met him and I love it because that scar brought him to me. It brought me friendship and concern and so many things that I never knew I needed._

_Then there's John after his first cup of tea when he sits down for breakfast, often with me even if I don't eat but sit there reading the paper looking for things of interest. He smiles often, talks about his plans or mine, asks if there's anything interesting, and tries to coax me into eating breakfast as well. Sometimes his smile and the tilt of his head as he asks the question inspires me to say yes._

_There's John at work. Doctor Watson, my Doctor Watson but one that I have to share with the masses. Lab coat, reassuring voice, soothing hand. My John the healer. I love watching him at work, although I don't get to often, damn privacy laws. I'm not so fond of watching him work when I'm the patient although I do appreciate the soothing touch. Then again when I'm the patient John's eyes aren't calm and he's not relaxed, he's tense and worried so it's not the same sight I get when watching him heal others._

_There's John, during the hunt, running through London with me. Nearly collapsing at the nearest wall, panting for breath, before catching it an rejoining the hunt with me. My John, the soldier. The one who loves the thrill of the hunt, who has and will again killed to save others. His eyes are always so focused on what I'm doing when I'm scouring for clues to find who committed the crime that we are solving. He wants to know what I'm doing, he wants to understand... and sometimes he even tries to deduce things with me. I love that. Even when he's wrong. I love that he tries._

_There's John at home, after a long day, half asleep on the sofa... trying to convince me that I should get some rest. My John, the care taker, the nag, my best friend. I don't always do what he suggests, in fact I usually don't but I do listen._

_There's one other sight that I love to see, although I've only seen it once. John, walking from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, towel slipping off his waist. John, skin still damp, water still dripping off his skin naked. Oh I hope to see that sight again very soon._


	76. Sometimes Silence is Golden

Title: Sometime Silence is Golden

Word Count:185

Notes: Written for prompt 75.) hearing.

His best friend and extremely eccentric roommate could play the violin exceedingly well, and yet there were times like now when not only would John like him not to play but he'd like to snap the bloody thing in half and get some rest. He'd been up all night,almost, in the freezing cold weather, he had work in hour, a fourteen hour shift during the cold and flu season when he felt like he was coming down with something himself.

It was lovely music, stirring and if he were in a better mood and had either had sleep earlier or could get sleep later, he'd be ensnared by the music Sherlock was coaxing from the bow.

But work, a lack of sleep, and no opportunity for sleep later...

"Will you bloody let me get some sleep, Sherlock," he roared as his temper snapped.

For a moment the sound, stopped.

"Anything for you, John," Sherlock said as he put down his beloved violin for now... perhaps the daytime was best suited for playing violin music to ensnare his best friend into becoming his lover.


	77. Dinner? Starved

Title: "Dinner?" "Starved."

Word Count:200

Notes: Written for prompt 76) dinner

It was there post chase, post case, ritual, one that Sherlock enjoyed and he thought John did too. So why was John on his mobile talking to her?

Was he making plans with her right now? When they had just finished the case, chased a particularly cunning set of thieves for three days, and both of them had post case euphoria.

Granted Sherlock hadn't gotten to his usual question of "dinner" accompanied by a smile smirk but still. Dinner at the nearest Chinese Restaurant that had the proper type of door handle, followed by breaking down the case and all of his deduction so that John could get all the details right in his blog, that was there ritual.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I can't. We just finished a case," John was saying.

John wasn't choosing her over him!

He finished his conversation and was very close to ending his relationship, the way he held his mobile said that the breakup when it happened would be John breaking up with her, which was good because he didn't want his blogger to be mopey.

"Dinner?" Sherlock asked with his smirk smile.

"Starved," John replied as he always did.


	78. Stopped Heart and Breath

Title: Stopped Heart and Breath

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 77.) Computer.

Sherlock was just idling about on the computer when the message came through. The email said it was from John, so he opened it expecting a short terse email reminding him to eat and to please not destroy the flat while he was at work.

What he got however stopped his heart and his breath. It was a picture of John, tied up, bruises on his face, and a gun held to his temple.

Sherlock ran through a list of enemies: Moriarty (dead), various criminals who he and John had apprehended (to many to list)...

The only text in the message told him that he had 12 hours. He phoned Mycroft.

Someone had John. Someone was going to hurt John. He didn't know where to start. His brain was to busy focusing on John's injuries, the barely hidden fear on his face, the gun to his temple... what if he failed?

What if John was killed? What if a bullet was put through that brain that housed a great mind and a brilliant soul?

His dearest friend, the one who he dreamed of making his lover, his John.

He forced his emotions to shut down which took more effort than it usually did which wasn't surprising with John's life on the line, and tried to think. He would get John back.


	79. Belief

Title: Belief

Word Count:100

Notes: Written for prompt 78. bondage

John was trying to stay calm, despite the gun pressed to his temple. He was tied to a chair and he had no way to escape.

He didn't recognize his kidnappers. But he really hoped that Sherlock would, since they said that if he didn't figure out who they were and what they wanted, John would end up with a bullet in his brain.

He wasn't too afraid. Sherlock would find him. He knew it. If he believed in anything he believed in Sherlock.

The gun was removed and so were his captors. John was left alone in the dark.


	80. Eight Nicotine Patches For John

Title: Eight Nicotine Patches For John

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 79 One Night Stand.

Sherlock stared at the faces on the videos from the CT cameras that Mycroft had sent. John's kidnappers, John being taken away in a van without any tags... nothing to trace there.

One of the faces looked familiar, he knew that person but how. If it was from his personal life, hopefully it wasn't from the time he was a drugged up addict.

Finally, the eight nicotine patches (and how John would bitch if he was here about him using eight nicotine patches, but John wasn't here which was why he needed eight patches in the first place) did their job and Sherlock's mind began to connect the memories.

University, the year before graduation, high on cocaine, he and a fellow classmate fell into bed for a night of mediocre but highly energetic because they were high on stimulants, and horny sex.

His classmate had become obsessed but he wasn't interested in repeating the night or entering into a relationship with him. He'd barely tolerated the annoying man.

He'd served his obsessed stalker a restraining order and forgotten about him.

Obviously, Crimmons went after John to get his attention and out of jealousy since Sherlock actually claimed John as a friend... but where would he go? Where would he be hiding?

Ben Crimmons... they were hiding somewhere near the Big Ben!


	81. No Touch

Title: No Touch

Word Count: 200

Notes: written for prompt 80. Mirror

John had been left alone in the dark for only a few minutes before he realized that they were pumping a drug into the room that was weakening him. He tried to figure out what it was, what it would do to him, but had passed out before he'd had the chance to figure it out.

When he'd come to, he'd been in a quarantine room in a hospital, unable to have visitors while his body processed the damage that the drug had done. He didn't yet know the story of how he'd been found or why he'd been kidnapped in the first place.

The closest thing he had to visitation and interaction, besides from doctors and nurses in special bio-hazard suits who wouldn't let Sherlock borrow one to visit him, was Sherlock who would stand at the large observation window, his hand pressed to the glass.

Whenever he could, John would stand at the window as well, mirroring Sherlock's actions and wishing that their hands could touch.

"_I love you,"_ John signed.

"_I love you too," _Sherlock signed back.

They stood there, hands pressed to cold glass, mirroring the others image, longing for the glass to disappear.


	82. Dark Waltz

Title: Dark Waltz

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 81 dance. Sorry for no drabble last night, I hadn't slept in a day and something and my John muse was giving me a medical lecture and refusing to cooperate until I got sleep.

Sherlock glared at the dancing couple as he sipped a glass of unfortunately nonalcoholic punch. John was flirting, laughing, and dancing with that woman for their current murder case.

Someone in this room was the killer, and Sherlock tried to blame his unease on that and not his jealousy.

He forced himself to focus on the one that he suspected was the killer, and not on the laughing pair that looked like they were about to kiss.

He looked at the suspects hand as they got close to the punch bowl he was staring at, they were to large, much to large to have administered poison with a small ring.

He looked over, anticipating grabbing John and getting out of here to figure out where he'd gone wrong, and figure out the real murderer was.

His heart lurched to his throat. John's partner, a small fingered lady, wearing a jagged pointed silver ring, John's face containing a bloodied scratch, John collapsing.

The cops apprehended the murder, while Sherlock rushed to his side and waited for the ambulance.

"Found our murderer," John slurred.

"Shut it, focus on not dying," Sherlock said. He grabbed John's hands, squeezing one, counting the rapidly slowing pulse of the other.

He held his John and watched as the fast acting poison coursed through his bloodstream.


	83. Poorly Hidden Secret

Title: Poorly Hidden Secret

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 82. Secret

The freak is an idiot. I don't mean when it comes to crime scene investigation which is the only reason any of us put up with him, no the freak is an idiot because he won't admit or allow himself to love the person that he's clearly head over heals in love with.

I've watched them from the beginning, Sherlock smiles for John, explains things for John, laughs with John and on rare occasion makes changes for John.

When John's with someone else, like he was today for our case with the murderer who was using poisoned jewelry, Sherlock is glaring, brooding, possessive, pouting, furious. It's like he's incapable of seeing that John Watson's world revolves around him, he calls and John comes running.

When he's hurt, like John was today, since he found our murder just as the murderer found her next victim. The chase, the criminal, it all fades out of his mind as he rushes to John's side... Telling John not to die, holding him, pleading with him

He needs to stop keeping it a secret so that he's not left with regrets and life long grief, instead of being told by paramedics issuing treatment that John will be fine with a few days at the hospital and some rest, while being wrapped in an orange shock blanket.


	84. Love vs Logic

Title: Love Vs. Logic

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 83. war

His mind and heart were at war again. His mind, which was so much a part of him, more so than his heart, warned him to stay away, that love and emotion was the death of the logic and reason, which he dedicated his life to. His heart, the weak and barely used emotional outlet that it was, told him that he loved John, that he needed John, that a life without John would be worse than a life without logic and reason.

Besides, John had never before tried to change him from who he was, why would he try to change him now. John didn't try and keep him from his cases or his experiments. Only put up token arguments to get him to eat or to stop putting his bloody experiments on the shelf reserved for food items and not decapitated, shriveled, severed heads.

Loving John was worth the risk, worth the pain. Sherlock once more grasped onto John's hand as he waited for his best friend to wake up, as he watched the antidote bring color once more into cheeks that had been pale as death yesterday.

Sherlock had a confession to make. He loved his best friend, his doctor, his danger magnet ex-soldier flatmate, who really should stop struck by cars, shot, poisoned or strapped to bombs...


	85. Absolutely Breathless

Title: Absolutely Breathless

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 84. Moon

At the last moment, Sherlock had lost his nerve and been unable to get his mouth to tell John how he felt. So now here he was on a stakeout for their latest case and a significant portion of his mind was dedicated to how amazingly sexy John looked in the faint glow of the alleyway. Not only were his feelings affecting his work, but he was beginning to moon over his love, like some lovesick fool.

John had always been capable of distracting Sherlock but lately it was becoming impossible to concentrate on anything else. His brain seemed dedicated to: put 2 ml of hydrochloric acid into the test tube... Oh John is wearing the jumper with the black and white stripes, he looks so adorable and sexy... the criminal clearly knew the vic... John in nothing but a towel shouting at him, brain in danger of immediate meltdown...

The stakeout was pretty much useless because Sherlock couldn't get his mind to focus on the alleyway in front of him and observational clues that would tell him if the criminal had been this way. John... sexy... jumper... love... John...

"To hell with it! " Sherlock exclaimed.

John looked at him confused, blinking his eyes and licking his lips.

"I love you," Sherlock whispered against John's lips, before kissing him absolutely breathless.


	86. The Vampiric Life for him

Title: The Vampiric Life for Him.

Word Count: 100

Notes: I'm a Floridian, with your skin, Sherlock, try being real! Written for prompt 85. Sun.

Beaches, Sherlock decided as his husband rubbed aloe vera on his back, were pure evil. They were to be promptly deleted. He'd enjoyed the vacation from his work, although he might never admit it aloud to anyone but John, and he'd enjoyed the ocean, the sand, and most especially rubbing sunscreen lotion on his husband's back.

Despite all this, beaches were evil, because despite applying sunscreen every few hours as directed, his skin had all but charred.

The sun, that thing that according to John, planets revolved around, was clearly a thing of absolute evil, that merely disguised itself as beneficial.


	87. The Three Sherlicks

Title: The Three Sherlicks

Word Count:221 B

Notes: Sorry about no drabble yesterday. My insomnia was so bad that by yesterday I couldn't string together a coherent thought. Y'all would have gotten a drabble about Sherlock sobbing on John about how he wants to sleep but his brain can't shut up... Written for the prompt Stars which is number 86.

**The Three Sherlicks**

They had been chasing their murderer, the cops along with Sherlock and John, and John had been the first one to get him, only for the murderer to slam him hard against the wall, in such a way that he hit his head hard.

He hadn't fallen unconscious but he could see stars. Well stars and three Sherlock's. Three concerned and angry Sherlocks who had punched the criminal in the face hard enough that the criminal was unconscious, so that cops could deal with him and were now leaning in and examining John's eyes and head.

"Sherlick," he slurred, "why are they three of you?"

The three Sherlocks looked amused and annoyed. "Because you have a concussion Doctor Watson."

"Oh, damn" John replied. He wanted there to be three Sherlocks right. "Why couldn't there actually be three Sherlicks?" he asked.

Donavan looked sick, he hoped she wasn't coming down with anything.

"Because there's only one,John Watson, and you can't have two Sherlocks left without their dear Watson" Sherlock replied.

He leaned his head on the one of the three Sherlock's that seemed solid and faded in and out during the journey home.

Sherlock dragged him upstairs gently, gathered an ice pack for his head, kissed the top of his forehead, and put him to bed.


	88. Minor Household Fires

Title:Minor Household Fires

Word Count:100

Notes: Written for prompt 87.) fire

"Do I even want to know how you managed to set that on fire?" John asked, exasperated and amused.

"Probably not," I answered as I held the corpse of our microwave.

I didn't know that it would do that. I try not to end John's days when it's been a long day at work followed by a long case with a minor household fire, not long after he's gone to bed.

It makes him unreasonable and moody. Which is my job. He's the calm and steady one, I'm the moody and stubborn one, and together we work well.


	89. Ashes To Ashes  warning:character death!

Title: Ashes to Ashes

Word Count:200

Notes: **Warning: Severe Angst, character death, sad things! ** I feel horrid and can't sleep so y'all get another drabble... however for the prompt Earth my mind went to angst mode. Sorry!

The priest was droning on about ashes to ashes and dust to dust and Sherlock was trying to keep from screaming.

He wanted to scream at them to bury him too.

They might as well. He was dead without John. Without his dear doctor, his only friend and the man who had only been his lover for one night.

A senseless accident, a drunk driver driving into their taxi cab and John had died, gasping for breath on the cold street, before the paramedics had even arrived.

There was nothing left for him anymore. What use was anything? All he could see was his John in his last moments trying to say I love you one last time.

The funeral was over, he was led back towards home where a pale and sobbing Mrs. Hudson (devastated at the loss of one of her boys and the only one who seemed to know that the other one would follow) was holding a collation or as some called it a wake.

He plead exhaustion, went upstairs and found his long hidden and unused stash of cocaine. "Forgive me, John," he whispered as he took a dosage strong enough to kill him.


	90. Most Melancholy Rubber Ducky

Title: Most Melancholy Rubber Ducky

Word count: 221B

Notes: Sorry about yesterday's angst fest! I was just having one of those nights... and my muse was on a sad jag... luckily things are looking better this morning... so lets have some John and Sherlock fluff, shall we? Prompt 89 is Water.

John sighed in the hot water of the tub, as Sherlock plead his case from outside, although soon he'd be in the room with John.

He was going to forgive Sherlock that was a given. He couldn't seem to stay mad at the other man for anything. Sherlock managing to destroy 2/3rds of their kitchen in an experiment that would have been best suited for a lab? Forgiven. Sherlock not telling him about his injuries which could have lead to death, forgiven after a five minute lecture on what not to hide from your doctor...

Sherlock messing with the one and only belonging on his that he'd specifically asked the detective not to bother with, and breaking it...

"Sorry," Sherlock interrupted John's brooding soak. He wasn't on the counter as John had expected. He was sitting on the ledge of the tub like the word's largest and most melancholy rubber ducky.

His eyes were sad. His whole face screamed kicked puppy and John felt his anger fade.

John tugged the half dressed Sherlock so that he was in the tub as well, shifting them both so that Sherlock's head was resting on his shoulder.

"I forgive you," he said, placing a kiss on top of dark curls.

Sherlock had to voice his complaint,"You forgot to add the bubble bath."


	91. Forms of Distraction

Title: Forms of Distraction

Word Count:221B

Notes:Written for prompt 90. Air.

One hand was clenched tightly against his trouser leg, the other was clinging to John's as he forced himself to make any expression. Donavan and Anderson were in the seat in front of him, since he and most of the Yarders were being flown into testify at the trial of a serial murderer who had started his spree in London before spreading out on an international scale, and he couldn't allow those two to know of his Aviatophobia. He'd never hear the end of it.

John was rubbing his hand soothingly but wasn't making a sound. Turbulence hit and Sherlock nearly whimpered at the second jarring bump... he wanted off this damn metal death trap. John prevented his whimper from being heard and distracted him by pressing his lips to Sherlock's. The kiss was unexpected and long. John kept Sherlock pleasantly distracted with his tongue until the turbulence had passed and then he went back to his book.

Was it just to keep Sherlock from making noise or was it more? Did he want more? Did John? What would happen now? Were they together?

These thoughts kept his brain busy until they landed, which was when John whispered, "Yes, we're together now, that is if you, want?"

Sherlock answered with a vigorous nod. Never before had land seemed so brilliant.


	92. Probably Shouldn't Have Touched That

Title: Probably Shouldn't have Touched That

Word Count: 435

Notes: Written for Prompt 91. Exotic

He knew his new features were even more impressive than his old appearance but he really wished that they would stop staring at him like he was some exotic pet.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Sally sneered snidely.

He probably shouldn't have touched the science experiment on the criminal mastermind's desk without knowing what it did. He certainly shouldn't have let it touch his skin apparently.

He hadn't thought it through being to impulsive and curious and now he had cat ears, which were really sensitive and he kept twitching them, moving them back and forth in between his hair, and a tail.

Sherlock glared at them all before saying to John, who hadn't said anything after scolding him for having no sense of self preservation and checking him over medically, "Come on, John, we must be getting home."

He had a sample of the serum and he really wanted out of the room before Anderson got there. It was bad enough dealing with Donavan.

They arrived home with little fanfare, mainly because Sherlock ignored peoples stares and John was busy brooding and not saying anything.

They both sat on the couch, Sherlock's tail kept moving back and forth without his conscious control, which was very annoying.

John was still silent, which Sherlock knew meant John was pissed at him for taking unnecessary risks that could have killed him, which Sherlock thought was a bit rich coming from his adrenaline junkie friend...

His ears began twitching again as he tried to think of what to say.

John sighed, "Sorry, I can't resist anymore."

He proceeded to rub and lightly scratch Sherlock's new soft furry appendages lightly.

Sherlock barely resisted the urge to purr... it was bad enough that prior to this John had compared him to a member of the feline species but now that he had some feline appearances, he didn't need to show their instincts too.

"I probably shouldn't have touched that," he said. His voice regretful.

"Let's just be grateful it didn't turn you into a full cat as I'm allergic so you'd have to find a new flatmate," John said.

Sherlock turned his face towards John and made his eyes as wide and innocent as possible, "You wouldn't really leave me would you?"

John stroked his fingers through Sherlock's hair, while still petting his ear.

"Of course not! I'd never leave you!" he reassured.

Sherlock leaned back against John and let himself be petted. He was feeling quite tired and John was warm and comfortable...

He let out a tired yawn and drifted into sleep.


	93. Teddy Bear Coat

Title: Teddy Bear Coat

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 92. innocent

Sherlock had been angry at John before he'd headed off with a terse, "I'll be out for the night, don't wait up," said as he stormed at the door, forgetting his coat.

What use was it to be in love if the one you loved was dating someone else? What good did these feelings and his inability to delete anything John related from his hard drive do him?

John was dating Sarah still. Despite her utter dullness and the fact that she wasn't the right person for his doctor who needed someone who would provide him with excitement and stimulation, John and Sarah were a couple.

He headed in and wouldn't have noticed John if it weren't for the light snore he heard as he walked to kitchen to blow things up in the name of science.

John was snuggling Sherlock's coat, cuddling it like a black teddy bear.

Sherlock's heart ached. His frustration and jealousy faded to the back part of his mind as the part of his brain dedicated to 'John is so perfect and adorable and I must jump up and down and be giddy', kicked in. Plus John, was contentedly snuggling Sherlock's coat, that had to mean something right?

He sat in his armchair and watched John sleep for hours, while pretending to read a book.


	94. Meows and Grudges

Title: Meows and Grudges

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 93. grudge. Dedicated to "my" Siamese who is more of my husband's cat after I took her to the vet when she was ill, five years ago.

The problem started the day I found a Siamese cat at a crime scene. She helped point me to a clue that was dangling underneath a nightstand, the clue that led to her former mistresses murderer.

I brought her home. At first she was my cat always with me, always talking to me, always at my side, an interesting if somewhat annoying companion.

Then came the day I accidentally set her tail on fire. Even though it wasn't my fault, even though the tail was fine, ever since then she's been John's cat.

It's John who's jumpers she adores, John, who she talks to, John who she snuggles with and John who's cat she's become. Even though, John always makes sure to point out that she's still my cat, especially when she's been up to mischief and shredded papers or urinated in places that she shouldn't.

Apparently, cats can hold a grudge for a long, long time.

Right now the two of them are snuggling on the sofa, John is petting Pest and telling her about his day so softly, I almost can't hear what he's saying. Pest is purring loudly and kneading her paws on John's jumper clad chest trying to find a comfortable spot for a nap.

I don't know who I'm more envious of John, Pest, or both.


	95. Tell All The Truth

Title: Tell All The Truth

Word Count: 600

Notes: This story has been on my mind all day! I've been dying to find time to write it... hopefully now that it's written it'll let me go back to the studying I've been trying to do. I actually like Sarah on the show, this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone and it kept multiplying.

Oh and it's written for prompt 94. evil.

Sarah was a despicable evil witch, Sherlock decided as he tried to decide what to do. She was cheating on John, Sherlock had deduced it yesterday and proved it but he hadn't yet told John. He hadn't told anyone because he didn't know what to do.

Normally, he'd tell of his deductions and show his proof without any care of the impact of his words but this was John and it would hurt John.

There were only two rules that Sherlock lived by and refused to violate and this would be breaking the most sacred, John must never be hurt, as well as breaking the second rule that Sherlock must never lie to John. (Made after the Moriarty incident had come to a close and John's trust in Sherlock was hanging by a thread because of Sherlock's lies...)

Yet, if he didn't tell and John found out later and figured out that Sherlock had known he'd be hurt. He really didn't know what to do and he couldn't even ask his moral compass because his moral compass was John...

Sherlock was still at an impasse when his phone beeped to let him know that he had a text message:

_JW is browsing jewelry stores for diamond rings, tell him now. MH_

As much as he loathed obeying his brother's command, Mycroft was right, for once, he should tell John.

Sherlock spent the remaining hour until John's arrival, cursing Sarah for all manner of things, not only had she taken some of John's time, attention, and affection away from Sherlock but she hadn't even had the sense to cherish it.

John came in loaded down with the shopping... and Sherlock jumped up to help him with it.

Once the groceries were put away, John looked at him and said, "Well out with it, you're never this helpful. What's wrong?"

After Sherlock had told him but hadn't had to show his evidence since John had believed him, his Doctor had sat down on hard on the couch. Sherlock joined him. He hadn't found much about male behaviors, after traumatic breakups, since most sources focused on women... but what he'd found had talked of suicide.

He didn't think John was the suicidal type but he didn't want John to feel alone. He wanted John to know that Sherlock was here for him and always would be... Just like John would do for him.

"Thanks," John finally said, after nearly an hour of silence. "I know that telling me was hard for you, but thanks for being honest with me," he added with a soft smile that was more brittle than normal.

Sherlock would normally glow or preen with John's praise especially for something that feel into the social realm but John was hurting and he didn't feel like smiling. He felt like finding Sarah and teaching her a lesson, she'd never forget about hurting his John Watson.

John's stomach rumbled loudly and Sherlock got up and ordered Curry takeout. He knew that John wouldn't want to either cook or go out, and after the eighth time he got distracted and nearly caused a kitchen fire, they'd come to the agreement that Sherlock couldn't cook.

After dinner, while the pair of them sat on the couch, Sherlock pressing his body close to John but not trying to break John's silence, since his Doctor coped with not good emotional things by going silent while he processed it, John leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder. After a while, the pair of them fell asleep on the couch, secure in the warmth of their friendship to lead them through all trials.


	96. Why I Love John Watson

Title: Why I love John Watson.

Word Count:400

Notes: I can't sleep so y'all get another drabble, written for prompt 95. perfect.

"I don't know what Sherlock sees in him anyway," I hear Molly mutter bitterly to herself as John and I leave the morgue, having gained the clue we need to solve our latest case, all of the victims had recently gotten tattoos, obviously there was poison in the ink.

I don't answer her back, although I'd like to. John hadn't heard her and I can't say what I long to say with him in ear shot.

I wish that we were a couple, but John had just left a relationship two days ago when his girlfriend had turned out to be cheating on him so now wouldn't be an opportune time to make my move. It would be a bit not good and I can't risk losing what I have now without the chance that I'd gain what I desire in return.

I want to answer Molly and the rest of the world who seem to wonder... I want them to know that I love John Watson and why I love him.

I love him because he's perfect for me. I love him because he makes me laugh, because he can draw me out of the blackest of moods. I love him because he accepts me, without trying to change me and he understands me. I love him because he's caring, brave, compassionate, and warm. I love him because he balances me, inspires me, and makes me long to be a better person. I love him because he's so many things, a healer and a soldier, so many contradictions, a mystery that I can't seem to solve, and always my best friend. My better half, my soul mate. My perfect John.

I want John to know why I love him. I want John to know that I don't just love in him a platonic best friends way but in a romantic way. I want to marry John Watson. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together before dying in our sleep on the same day so that neither of us have to be without the other one, ever again.

I want to be able to kiss John when he licks his lips, or first thing in the morning when he shambles into the kitchen, his hair sticking up with a terrible case of bed head, seeking tea. I want forever with my John... my dear Watson...


	97. Won't Leave You Again

Title: Won't Leave You Again

Word Count: 100

Notes: Written for prompt 96. promise

"Never again," Sherlock promised John's pale and still form. John had responded to seeing his best friend who he'd believed dead for three years by fainting.

Sherlock took the time that it took for John to wake up, to catalog the differences in his dear friend. His jumpers hung off of his frame since John had lost a lot of weight. John was paler than before and he clearly wasn't getting enough rest since there were bags under his eyes. His Doctor looked like an old man.

"I won't leave you again," Sherlock whispered as John's eyes opened.


	98. Why I love Sherlock Holmes

Title:_**Why I love Sherlock Holmes even though he's a bloody nosy bastard who fakes his death and reads private documents without permission.**_

Word Count:500

Notes: Written for prompt 97. forever

Sherlock opened the leather bound book in his hands carefully, John would be at work for hours but he didn't want to leave a sign that he'd been looking through John's things when things were already so strained between them. He just wanted to know where he stood with John.

_**Why I love Sherlock Holmes even though he's a bloody nosy bastard who fakes his death and reads private documents without permission.**_

_I love Sherlock. I always have really. It's why I forgive him for all sorts of minor offenses like body parts in the fridge or expecting me to fetch him a phone that's in the pocket of the coat he's wearing. It's why I've forgiven him for faking his death._

_When he "died", when Mycroft told me that Sherlock was dead that he hadn't made it. Everything stopped. Everything hurt. I didn't know what to do. My best friend was dead. My eccentric genius best friend who made everything in my world feel vibrant and alive was gone. There would be no more chases, no more apologetic half smiles as he explained how he fried our microwave again in the name of science, no more watching him dance about crime scenes solving crimes with ease. No more watching him show me emotions he denied having and refused to show others and knowing that he cared about me as deeply as I care about him._

_For a year, I carried on without feeling anything. What did anything matter when I wouldn't come home tired and exhausted to a dirty house, broken appliances and a mad genius firing bullets in the wall? When everything would be neat and orderly exactly how I left it._

_Then he came back, standing on my doorstep, alive. I'm not sorry about that punch to face when I came to, after fainting, Sherlock. You deserved it. Dead, three years, and then without even an explanation or apology, just a "John, you better not have thrown out my skull..." No I don't regret the punch at all. As much as I love you._

_I love him, even though he betrayed our friendship or partnership, by not telling me it was a deception. All he would have had to say was that he needed me to pretend to mourn him for several years and I would have... but he never told me. That hurts even now. It wars with my joy that he's alive and makes it hard for me to go back to the friendship that had the potential to be more that we had._

_I love Sherlock Holmes despite the fact that he's a bastard because of a lot of things really. I'd like to spend forever with my mad genius but I need to forgive him first._

Sherlock arranged the book back where he found it and stared at the wall deep in thought. They both loved one another but John was still trying to forgive him. How did one earn forgiveness?


	99. War Of The Genius Brothers

Title: War of the Genius Brothers

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 98, duel

John heaved a dramatic sigh as he saw the black car parked in front of the flat, as much as he liked Mycroft, he really wasn't feeling up to the verbal dueling that Sherlock and Mycroft would be doing.

He knew that his lover was uncertain after all his parents had always preferred the older and better at tact and social graces to Sherlock and they'd made no secret of this. He also knew that no matter how much he reassured Sherlock that Mycroft was just a friend, someone that he'd become close friends with during Sherlock's "death," that Mycroft had been a source of comfort since he could talk about the man he'd loved and missed, knowing that the other person was also feeling the loss.

No matter how much he reassured Sherlock that he had all of John's heart and soul, Sherlock was afraid that John too might come to favor his older brother, which would never happen because Sherlock was the love of John's life and he wished the genius would realize this.

The words were flying fast and furious between them. Sherlock was hissing like a scalded cat and Mycroft was sighing.

John made himself a cup of tea and stayed out of it. No point in getting involved in the war of the genius brothers.


	100. Always and Forever

Title: Always and Forever

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 99. Reservation

John waited for Sherlock to meet up with him with a little bit of confusion. While it was by no means unusual for them to have dinner out, since Sherlock seemed to have an army of restaurant owners who owed him a big favor, which John suspected was how Sherlock managed not to starve before John moved in, since despite being an excellent chemist Sherlock completely lacked cooking skills. It was however, unusual for them to have dinner reservations at a place that required formal wear.

Sherlock finally arrived, grinned at John and in they went to their dinner. It was a lovely restaurant, quiet, secluded, and lit by candles. Violin music played in the background. Sherlock held onto to his hand for almost the entire meal and like always between them the conversation ebbed and flowed comfortably.

Dinner was a true culinary delight, the wine was excellent, and the cheesecake was divine.

After dinner, Sherlock let go of the hand that he'd been holding onto, and holding out a black ring box and asked, "John, will you marry me?"

He suddenly looked just a little fearful that John would say no, like he didn't know that from the moment they had met it had always been Sherlock and always would be.

"Yes," John said in a strangled breath.


	101. The Hazards of Vacation

Title: The Hazards of Vacation

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 100. campfire. 100 prompts filled, 101 total drabbles and still more to go. Feel free to tell me what you'd like to see more of in the next 100 prompts and what you'd like to see less of.

On retrospect, maybe taking Sherlock camping was a bad idea. All John had wanted was a few days vacation to rest and relax without Scotland Yard or Mycroft interfering. Without Sherlock spending the majority of his time on the phone, solving cases from the pictures that Lestrade would send.

He just wanted to spend a relaxing vacation with his lover without more than half of the vacation being what they would normally do if they were back home in London.

However on the second night, Sherlock had managed to walk into some poison oak and now had a rashes all over his hands so they couldn't even touch one another. Then Sherlock was so brooding, angry, and utterly frustrating that when Lestrade called with a case, John had been happy for him to go, deciding he'd enjoy the third day by himself.

But that first night had gone right. The first night had been lovely, the temperature was cool and crisp but not freezing, the sky was clear so you could see all the stars. They had made love under the stars and sat curled around one another talking about anything and everything that came to mind.

They had lit a fire and made smores, John enjoying a nice lightly toasted marshmallow while Sherlock enjoyed his burnt.


	102. A Kiss To Make It Better

Title: A Kiss To Make It Better

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 101. gloves

Sherlock hates visiting John's office, not because he hates watching John in full doctor mode but because when he's a patient, he hates the feel of the latex gloves on his skin.

At home, when John is examining whatever burn, bump, or other minor injury Sherlock has managed to give himself during the course of his experiments, Sherlock can feel the warmth of John's hand, and the soothing touch of John's fingers on his skin. It always makes the pain lessen and makes Sherlock feel warm inside.

With the gloves, all he feels is the cold, lack of warmth and the impersonal touch of latex.

If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd promised John that if he injured himself, he wouldn't wait for John to come home, but would come to John so that John could examine him, he would have waited to present his latest battle scar, he's earned in his quest for scientific discovery until John got home.

John sighed as he first examined Sherlock's arm, washed it thoroughly in cold water, and then applied disinfectant and burn cream. He then pulled off the gloves, tossed them in the rubbish bin and said, "Here to help it feel better. See you when I get off work."

He kissed Sherlock's arm lightly, just above the acid burn.


	103. A Very Dark And Scary Forest

Title: A Very Dark and Scary Forest

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 102: Woods

**AU Verse: All you really need to know is that John and Sherlock are five years old and best friends.**

Sherlock ran his fingers through John's hair.

He'd had an asthma attack and it had been scary but Sherlock had run for his Mummy in time and John would be fine, he'd even get to stay with Sherlock for the two weeks as promised, mainly because John's parents couldn't be reached.

John opened his eyes and blinked. " 'Lo Lock," he murmured.

Even though he'd wanted John to be awake and playing with him in the first place, Sherlock wrapped John's blankets around him tightly, "Sleep," Sherlock demanded. John had been unable to breathe and that had been scary.

He curled up on the edge of John's bed and began to tell a story: "Once upon time there was a brave peasant boy named John, who being very poor, decided to go rescue the brave Prince Sherlock who had been cursed by the annoying dark wizard Mycroft.

John was very brave because in order to do this, he had to go through a very dark and very scary forest. But because he was John, he made it through the dark and scary forest without seeming to realize it was scary.

Then he rescued Prince Sherlock, and they lived in huge castle, happily ever after."

John fell asleep and Sherlock joined him snuggling against John on top of the blankets.


	104. Get Better Soon

Title:Get Better Soon

Word Count:221B

Notes:So I've got a head cold and I feel horrid so thus John must suffer. Prompt is 103. anger.

John glared at the box of tissues and the medications that promised that he'd feel better. He didn't feel better and he was sick of sneezing, alternating between bouts of chills and being to hot, and all the other things that went on with a lovely cold.

He was also quite angry at Sherlock since if he hadn't made him walk through the rain two days ago for evidence he hadn't needed by the time John had gotten it, he might not be sick now. Best friend or not, he was cranky, sick and he was going to blame Sherlock.

Sherlock came into the room with some chicken soup, crackers, and a warm cup of tea, loaded onto a tray.

John ate his soup, drank his tea, and took more of the medication that promised relief from his agony, and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, he woke up to the feel of Sherlock's hand on his forehead, his friend's hand felt like ice.

"Slight fever," Sherlock said, looking at him with concern, before handing him some more tea and the lying cold medication.

"Thanks," John said. Well it came out more like Tankbs, but Sherlock was a genius and figured it out.

Sherlock kissed his forehead softly, "Get better soon, I'm lost without my blogger."


	105. Of Missing Partners and Knitted Scarves

Title: Of Missing Partners and Knitted Scarves

Word Count:500

Notes: Written for ceres51892, who requested John being the one doing the rescuing for once, and for prompt 104. Watching the Clock. I always welcome requests and ideas so if there's something you'd like to see, just ask. :-)

John stared anxiously at the clock once more. Sherlock should have been back, at least an hour ago, and if he'd decided to take on another murderer without any back up, John was going to kill him.

Grabbing his gun and phone, and arranging his coat so that it hid his jacket. John decided to trace Sherlock's footsteps.

Sherlock was bound and gagged in a warehouse swearing angrily in his head. He'd told John he was just going to Bart's but instead he'd found a lead his case and had gone off without telling anyone, only for his murderer to find him, instead. He'd been caught from behind and easily subdued. It had been four hours, John would have noticed him missing an hour ago, but would John figure out where he'd gone without having to resort to texting Mycroft at the agreed upon 12 hours of Sherlock missing without word of his safety, point?

Sherlock didn't want to be rescued by anyone but being rescued by his older annoying brother was only a step above being rescued by Donavan and Anderson.

It took ages for John to find Sherlock and in that time John decided that if the stubborn bastard wasn't injured or actually in danger, he'd throttle him.

He found the clue that Sherlock had traced, which lead him to a man that happened to fit the description of their murderer and was in possession of a scarf that John would know anywhere, having knit it himself for Sherlock's birthday.

He slammed the man hard against the wall and pinned him.

"Where is he?" John growled.

The man spit out the address quickly and John knocked the man out, bound him with a pair of cuffs, that he'd started keeping in his coat pockets, and called Lestrade.

He didn't wait until Lestrade showed up to go retrieve his missing partner.

John went into the warehouse slowly, gun drawn, but there was no one there except for a bound and gagged Sherlock.

He set the safety on the gun, put it in his pocket, and released Sherlock.

He ignored Sherlock's excuses, as he began to do a through medical checkup.

"Slight concussion, chilled because not only did you forget your coat at home but that bastard stole your scarf, bruising and slight abrasions about the wrists but nothing that can't be treated at home..."

His hands were stroking through Sherlock's hair even as he slipped his coat off and wrapped it around Sherlock and retied the blue scarf around his neck.

Sherlock smiled feeling warm and safe.

Once the case had been wrapped up and they were back home. John made Sherlock drink a cup of tea while he tended to the cuts and bruises that marred Sherlock's skin. He turned to deliver a blistering lecture to his partner, only to find the man fast asleep with a slight smile on his face.

He set the lecture aside for the morning and covered him with a blanket.


	106. Concussions, Broken Wrists, and Snuggles

Title: Concussions, Broken Wrists, and Snuggles

Word Count:221B

Notes: Okay, I've had six panic attacks today so rather than answering a prompt like I want to... the next prompt has had a good bunny in my head all day... But I want to be able to give it justice.

Today's drabble is promptless.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John said as he curled up next to him. He was tired, had a broken wrist from beating up some henchmen in order to find Sherlock and keep him from drowning. Sherlock had a concussion so he'd have to wake the bloody stubborn genius up every two hours in order to ask him questions. He would have left them both in the hospital once he'd gotten his cast but Sherlock's lack of general knowledge would have left them thinking the head wound had done serious damage.

"But I'm gay and you're straight and won't this be awkward?" Sherlock said. He didn't want to lose his only friend.

"I'm bisexual, now shut up and sleep for an hour, would you?" John said.

They curled up into the blankets and slept. Waking up every two hours for a question and answer session.

In the morning it wasn't awkward, even with John's head pillowed on Sherlock's chest, and Sherlock's fingers stroking through John's hair. It was actually quite enjoyable, even if Sherlock babbled in his sleep and hogged the blankets.


	107. John Watson Appreciation Day

Title: John Watson Appreciation Day

Word Count:600

Notes:Not sure I did the prompt justice but this for prompt 105. glory.

Sherlock fought the urge to verbally and viciously attack Sally Donavan and instead focus on the corpse on the floor, rather than her words to John.

"So, you do his laundry, the cleaning, the shopping, and I bet you come running when he calls you to fetch something, like a good little pet. I bet your master doesn't even say thank you," She was taunting John.

Using the same word for John that Moriarty had used at the pool that day. The day that John... Sherlock forced his brain not to remember that day, and the fear that had chilled his blood at the sight of John decked out in explosives.

"He doesn't need to say anything," John said. His voice sounded off though. Off to Sherlock at least but others who weren't as observant in John's voices and mannerisms didn't notice anything off.

Sherlock finally noticed the clue and was able to dash out of there on a whirlwind of thoughts and clues but that incident and those words stayed in his mind and once the murderer had been apprehended he dedicated his whole focus to those words.

John was not his pet. He was not John's master. If anything, John was the one with all the control in their friendship. John could get him to eat, control his behavior in public by telling him what he was doing was bit not good, could get him to go to sleep, and really could get him to do most anything just by asking him to. Not that John abused this power, in fact Sherlock wasn't even certain that John was aware of just how much sway he held over Sherlock.

Yes, John did the laundry, the cooking, the shopping, and yes he did come running if Sherlock texted him... John did a lot for him, without ever asking for anything in return, and Sherlock very rarely said any pointless words of gratitude.

John's voice, did John not know how much he appreciated everything that John did? Sherlock allowed himself to replay the voice in his mind once more and concluded that his best friend clearly didn't know.

All of this is what led to what Sherlock had taken to calling John Watson Appreciation Day in his head.

He did the shopping before John woke up and they now had a fridge full of milk, a freezer full of ice cream and a pantry full of tea. He had no idea what to buy and John was always saying they were out of milk, constantly drinking tea, and had a weakness for ice cream, so he figured that would do it.

He made John breakfast, toast with butter and jam, although the toast seemed a little darker than the toast was when John made it.

John had eaten it with a smile, taken a look at the fridge and grinned at him while laughing.

Sherlock was torn between annoyance because John was laughing at him and the urge to smile back because John was laughing.

"Not that I'm complaining mind, but what's all this about?" John asked.

"I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you and everything you do for me," Sherlock said, while looking at the ceiling. Actually saying words like this was not his area.

John grinned at him, Sherlock grinned back and the awkwardness that Sherlock had felt vanished, yet another thing that only John could do.

They spent the rest of day on the sofa, watching crap telly and munching on ice cream. John Watson Appreciation Day was a huge success.


	108. The Voice

Title: The Voice

Word Count:221B

Notes: Depending on how my unexpected, until my doctor scheduled it today, visit at the cardiologists goes tomorrow, there might not be a drabble tomorrow. Today's drabble is for prompt 106. sleeping in.

It was the weekend. No work, no patients, and unless something interesting happened, no cases. John could finally make up for all the sleep he lacked, usually because of the aforementioned cases and a certain genius curly haired detective.

He loved the cases with the excitement and mystery but he didn't love the lack of sleep that the cases brought. During a case, Sherlock didn't believe in sleep and he got tetchy if John ended up needing more rest than he deemed necessary. The last case had been grueling and John had only gotten about three hours sleep throughout the entire week.

John snuggled deeper into his pillow and blankets and allowed his mind to drift off to sleep. He was almost back to the promised land of good dreams, when a voice interrupted his attempt.

"John..." he ignored the voice, if he ignored it, maybe it would go away. "Psst... John!" the voice's finger poked him in the stomach.

"What?" John asked, wondering if it was worth the effort of smacking Sherlock with pillow if it meant no longer laying on it.

"I'm bored," Sherlock answered.

John hopped up, and pulled Sherlock into bed. He pulled the blankets over them. "Go to sleep, it's time for all good little genius detectives to go to bed."


	109. Sleeping Watson

Title: Sleeping Watson

Word Count:300

Notes: Appointment today went well. Have to wear a heart monitor for a few days next week to see if they can see what happens to my heart when I have an attack. So thus, y'all get a drabble today as I'm calm. The prompt is 107. awake.

John fell back asleep easily, even as his body kept a possessive hold on the detective he'd grabbed and pulled into bed. Sherlock wasn't sleeping. He'd been sort of awake before and very bored but he was wide awake now as his mind and body were sending him thousands of thoughts and bits of data at once.

John had grabbed him and pulled him into bed. John was holding him in his sleep. Did that mean they were in a relationship now? Did that mean that John wanted to be in a relationship?

Sherlock wanted very much to be in a relationship with John. He knew that he was in love with John, he'd realized it during what John had dubbed the Blind Banker Case, when he'd seen the dead man symbol and known that John had been taken, that John was being threatened.

What he'd never been able to deduce however was whether or not his best friend loved him romantically or not in return.

He'd never had nor wanted a relationship before and he'd deleted all information about it as extraneous information worthy of deletion. Then John had come into his life. John with his acceptance, his smile, his easy laughter, his bravery, his shooting skill, his compassion and those soft warm jumpers, he hadn't stood a chance. John, who told him he was brilliant sometimes, and who told him he was an idiot at other times.

He wanted John. He wanted to kiss those lips that were slightly parted. He wanted to touch all of John and be touched in return. He wanted to be loved.

An experiment, if it didn't go well, he'd call it a social experiment, storm off and come back after healing his broken heart.

He leaned down and kissed his sleeping Watson.


	110. Someone Just For Me

Title:Someone Just For Me

Word count:221B

Notes: written on my net book, since my mouse batteries are recharging and my computer is being used to upload the new Elder Scrolls game. This is written for prompt 108. claim.

Sherlock glared at Sarah but only when John wasn't looking. John was his. Not hers. John had been his first.

John might not have known it but from that first moment, Sherlock had laid a claim on John. He had known right away that his long awaited soul mate the one who would see him for who he was and love him anyways had finally arrived. Mummy had promised that there would be someone just for him one day, and John was his promised one.

He hadn't wanted to go too fast, hadn't wanted to spook John away from him entirely in case John hadn't recognized that they were soul mates at first glance, which is why he'd claimed to be married to his work.

Losing John to her was intolerable. He couldn't bear to watch them together. Yet, he couldn't leave them alone. He couldn't risk this becoming more than one date.

He'd crack the code and draw John away from her, with his brilliance.

He dashed back into the flat ready to get John's attention away from her. John was gone. Yellow paint on the wall, dead man, a chilling threat. A hint of blood, by the door. John had been attacked, caught unawares while Sherlock was barely away from home.

Sherlock's hand trembled as he opened the book.


	111. Lonely Someone Just For Me: prequel

Title: Lonely (Someone Just For Me: prequel)

Word Count:200

Notes: This is a prequel to yesterday's drabble. Hopefully now Sherlock's possessiveness in yesterday's drabble doesn't come off as creepy now. The prompt is pet.

He was sobbing in her arms. No one at school liked him, they called him a freak. Mummy was petting his hair and telling him that he wasn't a freak, that one day he'd find his soul mate.

She told him how her family had always known right away who their special someone was although most other people had forgotten how to detect the spark and magic that indicated that they had found their special someone.

From that day forward, Sherlock had hope. It didn't matter how others felt about him, one day he'd find his someone and he wouldn't be alone any more.

He'd only lost hope for a brief time in his 20's when he dosed himself with drugs in order to forget that he was desperately lonely.

His hope was still there but barely there, that day in the lab, when he felt it. As much as he didn't believe in magic, since it was unscientific the best word he could come up with for how it felt the moment John had walked into the room, was spark and magic.

By the next day, he had a flatmate and a friend, and he wasn't lonely any more.


	112. Sparks and Soulmates

Title: Sparks and Soul Mates

Word count: 400

Notes: Written for prompt 110. gift and Manga Parva who requested more soul mates.

Every time he looked at the scabbed and bruised mark on John's forehead, Sherlock felt his rage and anger at not going after Shan intensify.

He didn't regret saving John nor did he regret saving Sarah, but Shan was gone and she'd been the one who had hurt John.

John, who was holding a bag of frozen peas on the bruise, and looking so wounded and yet adorable that all Sherlock wanted to do was gather the man up, smother him with kisses and tell him that he'd kill anyone who harmed him.

But John was dating Sarah, and Sherlock didn't want to make him uncomfortable, what if he left Baker Street for good? He never wanted to lose John.

He bit his tongue and time moved on. Then came him shooting the wall, insulting John out of boredom and temper, John storming off, an explosion on Baker Street, five pips, and five cases. Lying to John and deliberately causing him to storm off to Sarah's where he'd hoped that John would be safe.

Then the moment came where he regretted not treating every second with John like the precious gift it was, the moment where he'd realized that John was not safe, that John was the fifth pip, and had been kidnapped by Moriarty.

"I'll burn the heart out of you," Moriarty threatened.

Despite saying that he'd been reliably informed that he did not have one, he knew it was a lie. John was his heart and his conscience. Jim knew it was a lie too.

John's life was in danger. His was too but what did his life matter when John's life was on the line?

He grabbed the gun and fired at the explosive laden jacket. The world around him exploded in fire.

John pushed him into the pool, but didn't make it into the pool himself as he ended up getting shot in the leg and the shoulder (the same one that had been shot before).

Sherlock pressed compressions on the wounds and waited for help to arrive. All the while, his mind was begging for another chance, a chance where he'd cherish every John filled moment, and where he'd tell his John that he was loved.

The second that John woke up, Sherlock kissed him. John kissed him back. Then, they spent several hours snuggled together as Sherlock explained about sparks and soul mates.


	113. Snow Games

Title: Snow Games

Word Count:100

Notes: Y'all nearly didn't get a drabble today despite the fact that I wrote three for this prompt, since I didn't like any of them, and between the appointment to get hooked up to the 24 hour portable ekg machine and my school work I didn't think I'd get a chance to try for one I liked! This is for prompt 111. winter.

**Note the second: Takes place in an AU verse where John and Sherlock meet as children.**

Sherlock scowled his hatred of winter up at the sky. Other children, were throwing snowballs at one another but Sherlock sat there bereft.

Johnny wasn't there today. It was Saturday, the day that they played in the park, but John wasn't there.

A snowball was launched at his head, before he turned around he already knew by the giggles and the "Sorry, I'm late," that he'd find his friend.

He laughed, and bent down to gather up snow. "The game is on!" he exclaimed as John giggled and ran a bit farther away while gathering up more snow.


	114. Springtime Weddings

Title:Springtime Weddings

Word Count:200

Notes:Written for prompt 112. Spring.

"What's got you so angry?" John angrily demanded of his best friend. Sherlock had been glaring at everyone and everything all day!

Sherlock glared at him. "You're cheating on me!"

"How can I cheat on you? We're not even dating! Thus I'm free to go on a date..." John answered.

"Of course, we're not dating, we're married remember!" Sherlock shouted.

John did remember. A spring day. Standing in front of Mycroft. Both John and Sherlock, alternating between serious and giggles as Mycroft performed the ceremony with due solemnity. The kiss on the cheek that they exchanged. It was hard to forget.

"We were five!" John argued back.

"So we swore forever and-" Sherlock stopped speaking and went to turn away. John grabbed him.

"Sherlock?" he said. His friend turned around and this time John could see the emotions swirling in his eyes. Pain, fear, hope, jealousy and love.

It had always been there.

"I love you too," John said. He pulled his much taller friend into a kiss.

Thus it was that at five John and Sherlock got married although it wasn't until they were 13 that they became an official couple.


	115. Bear Hugs

Title: Bear Hugs

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for the prompt autumn, in the same verse as the last two drabbles. Aka the same verse where John and Sherlock are childhood friends.

His parents were drunk and fighting again and his older sister was spending the night at a friend's house. John sat on top of his bed trying not cry. He hated it when they were drunk and when they were fighting but he wouldn't cry because he was a big boy.

He was five years old after all. He wished Sherlock was here, Sherlock was three months older than him and could always make him feel better.

Opening his window, John made his way, carefully down the drain pipe. It made him sad that he had to drop his teddy but he couldn't hold his teddy and climb down. If Sherlock couldn't come to him, he'd go to Sherlock.

The five year old made his way in the dark, down several busy roads and intersections to Sherlock's house.

Mummy answered the door, gave him a big hug, before leading him to Sherlock's room. John knew that in a few hours, she'd call his mum, who would pick him up and give him a scolding.

Sherlock's eyes opened as he felt John crawling into bed to lay next to him. He said nothing as he wrapped his arms around him. John relaxed against Sherlock and smiled. Both boys drifted off into sleep, warm and safe.

Nestled between them was John's teddy bear.


	116. More Than One Friend

Title:More than One Friend

Word count:300

Notes: This will be the last of the stories from the child verse posted here for a bit although I'm probably going to start a new drabble series just for them since child Sherlock and child John? Stimulate that portion of my brain normally reserved for cute kittens. The prompt is Summer.

Sherlock tried to hide his tears before John could see them. John had been away at summer camp and had written Sherlock every day, letters that Sherlock had cherished even as the seven year old had pouted because John wasn't home and they hadn't been apart for longer than a few days since they were three.

John had come home today and Sherlock had been waiting near the driveway ready to run to his friend, give him a hug, and drag him off to play. John had returned the hug and then began to tell him everything about the last week of camp since letters wouldn't have made it Sherlock in time.

That was when John had mentioned _him. _ A boy named Jim Moriarty who he'd befriended. Sherlock had called out that he had to go and ran home.

By the time he got home the tears were pouring down his cheeks. Mummy gathered him up in a hug.

"What's wrong Sherbear?" she asked.

After Sherlock had spilled out the whole story she had sighed.

"John can have more than one friend, love." she began, "Did he refer to him as his best friend?"

Sherlock shook his head no. Mummy spent the next five minutes listing all the facts that proved that Sherlock hadn't been replaced.

They were interrupted by a frantic knock at the door, behind which there was an even more frantic John.

"Sherlock!" he called before running to Sherlock and hugging him.

"What's wrong? What did I do wrong?"

Sherlock just hugged his friend back tightly and reassured himself by the facts Mummy had given him and the fact that John had run straight to him.

John was still his. His best friend, his husband...

"I'm an idiot, John." he said.


	117. Just A Little Change

Title: Just A Little Change

Word Count:221B

Notes: This is a sequel to chapter 92: Probably Shouldn't Have Touched That. AKA Kitty Sherlock. It's written for prompt 115. Change.

Sherlock's ears were back and his tail was twitching in agitation. Since he'd been turned into a part cat but still mostly human hybrid, he'd been trying to figure out what changed him so that he could change back.

Unfortunately like all of his other attempts so far, this attempt had been a miserable failure. He hardly went outside anymore because he couldn't take all the teasing from the yard and the stares from strangers. Being called a "_cute kitty widdy"_ by Donavan was more than he could handle.

Only John was treating him normally. He heard John's steps on the stairs and smiled.

After dinner, they sat on the couch, John trying to work on his latest knitting project. Sherlock tried not to let his more feline impulses take over his mind but it was blue yarn and it was moving and he wanted to bat at it.

He blushed as he realized that he'd pounced on the string and was biting it in his mouth. He spit the yarn out.

John just laughed and put his knitting away.

Sherlock leaned against John hoping to remind him of what had become their nightly ritual since the incident.

John got the hint and began to rub and scratch at Sherlock's ears while also petting his hair. It was such bliss.


	118. Silver And Gold

Title: Silver and Gold

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for prompt 116: gold. Does anybody happen to know the age difference between Sherlock and Mycroft, I'm working on a few drabbles for the kiddie verse and I'm stuck because I don't know how much older I should make Mycroft. I was thinking about 8 or 9 years, does that seem acceptable?

Gold bands, silver bands, platinum bands. Ones with diamonds in them that were not taken care of and were on the finger of a serial adulterer, ones with cubic zirconium that was cherished and loved not because of the expense but because of what it represented.

The antique silver and and amethyst ring on his mother's hand that was clearly cherished and the uncleaned and frequently removed gold ring on his father's finger that had been where ten year old Sherlock had learned how to deduce through rings the state of a marriage.

Sherlock's mind had devoted a lot of time and attention to wedding rings for cases. Often times, knowing the state of someone's marriage was useful to know whether or not the grieving spouse was actually grieving or if they'd had a hand in their spouse death.

Never had he thought that he'd be at a jewelry store with the purpose that had him thinking so intently about wedding rings now.

He wanted to ask John to marry him. He needed two rings that would hopefully be cherished for a lifetime. A symbol that Sherlock and John were united as one, a unit as they'd been from the day they met and would be until death.

With nervous energy and hands that trembled, Sherlock picked out two wedding bands.


	119. Dying Of A Broken Heart

Title: Dying Of A Broken Heart

Word Count:221B

Notes: Angst and Character Death. I had no other ideas for what to write for prompt 117. Silver. Sorry!

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They'd made it through Moriarty, death threats, Sherlock's faking of his own death, still more death threats, cases where it looked like one or both of them weren't going to make it, both Sherlock and John's family... It wasn't supposed to end like this.

They'd retired a year ago. A small little house away from London with bees and a small garden. They were supposed to die in their nineties, on the same day, peacefully in their sleep without either one of them having to go on without the other one.

It wasn't supposed to happen, that coming in from tending his bees and wanting some tea and the lunch John usually had prepared, that Sherlock would find John lying on the floor.

Gone, while Sherlock was out, John had just gone. Sherlock remembers calling for people on the phone before going back to holding John's lifeless body. He remembers collapsing on his husband's chest sobbing and stroking fingers through John's silver hair.

Now all that's left is waiting to die. Waiting for death to come back and claim him because without John, there was nothing left of life that mattered to Sherlock.

When death finally came at the end of that year for Sherlock the only life around for miles were the bees.


	120. The Perfect Present

Title: The Perfect Present

Word Count:300

Notes: As an apology for yesterday's drabble: here have some cute adorable fluff!

It was their one year anniversary. Sherlock knew that anniversaries were usually for wedding dates and other dates rather than a move in date but Sherlock wanted to celebrate anyways. It was the date in which Sherlock found his first and only friend. The day that he quit being alone and started having someone to care for.

He hadn't told John that they were celebrating, just told him that he'd need him tonight after work and Sherlock was hoping to have a present for John by then.

John was easy to please but incredibly difficult to shop for as he didn't really need or want much in the way of material goods, so Sherlock had had just left another store empty handed and a bit frustrated when he heard it.

Frightened terrified whimpers. In a cardboard box abandoned near a row of trash bins was a cardboard box with a small puppy inside. The puppy who was at least half dalmatian judging by the black dots on it's white fur, would be the perfect present for John. After all, John had mentioned once that he'd always wanted a dog but never been able to have one.

He had six hours until John got home, which turned out to be enough time for him to take the puppy to the vet, and then remove the more hazardous of his experiments from puppy reach.

John came home and looked around in some confusion. The flat was a good deal cleaner than it had been when he'd left this morning.

Sherlock smiled somewhat shyly at John. "Ah John, you're home. Happy Anniversary. Here."

John laughed as the puppy Sherlock handed him began to lick his face.

"Happy anniversary!" he replied, before reaching into his pocket and handing Sherlock a wrapped box.


	121. Hand Knit Warmth

Title: Hand Knit Warmth

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for braceface freak who requested a continuation of yesterday's drabble... :-) Hope you enjoy it. Also written for prompt 119 black. :-)

John had remembered too and had bought Sherlock a gift as well... did that mean that their meeting met as much to John as it did to Sherlock?

From the expression on John's face, the same nervous expression he wore when he'd given Sherlock his birthday scarf, it was probably homemade. Sherlock shook the box slightly.

Another scarf, maybe? Sherlock stopped deducing and opened the box. No matter what was in the box, John had remembered and bought him a gift so Sherlock would love it.

In the box were several pairs of hand knit, black and navy blue, woolen, socks.

"For wearing round the flat in the winter..." John started. Like last time, John seemed hesitant and nervous as if he were afraid Sherlock would hate the gift.

"I love them," Sherlock said, "No one's ever put as much thought and care into my presents as you do."

His parents and Mycroft paid people to do the gift giving and gift buying for them. John planned ahead and made things with care and effort just for Sherlock. He wasn't even wearing the socks and he felt warm throughout.

"Now we just need to name the puppy," he added. "No A names though. How about we start with the letter B? Hmm... Barium, Beryllium, Bunsen, Botulism...?


	122. No Sherlock! We're Not Naming

Title: No Sherlock! We're Not Naming The Dog Botulism

Prompt: Red

Word Count:221B

Notes: :-) A continuation of the last two drabbles because my muse kept insisting on showing me John's next words... and then well...

"No Sherlock we are not naming the dog Botulism!" John exclaimed. Sherlock shrugged. He thought it sounded like a nice name. Botulism rolled off the tongue nicely. Maybe John didn't like the puppy being named after diseases... he supposed that did sound a bit not good.

"Bunsen doesn't sound like a bad name though, in fact I like it," John added.

Thus the dalmatian puppy was dubbed Bunsen and was soon settled into life at Baker St.

A week later, there was another "drugs bust" and John ignored the chaos and arguing as he grabbed Bunsen's lead and attached it to his collar.

"Come on Bunsen, it's time for your walk," he said as began to walk out the door with the puppy who's tail was happily wagging.

"What kind of Freak names their dog Bunsen," Sally said.

"The freaks at Baker St. do," John said giving Sally his best glare. He was sick of her constant insults.

Bunsen weighed in his opinion on Sally by walking up to her and peeing on her leg. John led the dog outside where they had a nice walk.

Sherlock grinned as the officers left, and burst into giggles once they had all left, Sally's shrieks and cries had made a delightful end to that "drugs bust".


	123. Green With Envy

Title:Green With Envy

Prompt: Green

Word Count:221B

Notes: Mycroft is a hard POV character but I'm quite fond of this, even if I want to pull Mycroft into a hug.

All of his life, he'd been the one that Sherlock had envied, first for being older and then because he'd had the ability to fit into society without alienating people by telling them all the secrets he'd deduced about them. Sherlock had never seemed able to do that throughout his schooling and thus hadn't been treated kindly by either his teachers or his classmates. Then he'd been the one Sherlock had envied for their parents love, both of his parents made it clear that he was the favorite son, which was why Sherlock hated him now.

Now he was the jealous one. He'd never met anyone like Doctor John Hamish Watson. Loyal, generous, slow to anger, steady, possessing an appreciation for genius, sexy, brave, kind and so many other traits.

Never had he had a best friend and his brother did. His brother had just found a best friend (who would probably become his boyfriend) someone who would care about him not for money or for what he could do for them but out of actual care. Someone to laugh with as they walked away from a crime scene. Someone who made the loneliness disappear.

Mycroft stood there for a few minutes with his assistant feeling old, jealous, and lonely as he watched the perfect man walk off with his brother.


	124. Best Medicine

Title:Best Medicine

Prompt: purple

Word Count:200

Notes: I have a migraine so Sherlock gets to suffer. Tomorrow Mycroft shall get another drabble full of his own thoughts and things...

Migraines were evil with extra special evil mixed into it. Sherlock thought as he glared at bottle of medicine that promised relief.

It was doing a bang up job so far... that's why Sherlock had violently vomited, why his head was pounding and why black and purple spots were dancing in front of his vision.

"Sherlock, I'm home!" he heard John call... but he was feeling dizzy and he passed out.

John heard the clatter, just as he put the milk away. He ran upstairs, fear in his heart. What experiment of Sherlock's had gone wrong now and how badly was Sherlock hurt?

Sherlock had luckily landed in such a way that his only injury was bruise and to John's relief he'd revived quickly.

"Hurts," Sherlock had whimpered, clutching his head.

John helped ease Sherlock into bed, called in a prescription for better meds, and sat next to Sherlock running fingers though his hair to help ease Sherlock's tension. He wished he could just get rid of his friend's pain.

John left to go back out to pick up the medication for Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled slightly, he was still in agony but John really was the best medicine.


	125. Wait And Hope

Title:Wait and Hope

Prompt:Pink

Word Count:400

Notes: Sorry about yesterday. I was in the kitchen all day cooking for our not Thanksgiving but my husband had to work so we're having it on Saturday feast... and when it was over my muse was too exhausted to read fic. Let alone write it. This is for Eleni C... who requested a continuation of my Mycroft centric drabble. It's not a direct continuation but it's his thoughts at a later date.

His brother was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital clutching the pink phone in his hands so tightly that his knuckles were white. Mycroft didn't know why Sherlock was keeping the phone with him... why he hadn't left it behind or set it aside for now... but Sherlock was clinging to that phone as he retreated further and further into himself.

Mycroft tried to find words to comfort him but he didn't possess words that he could use. Anything he could say was meaningless. What use were words when John Watson could be dying in one of the rooms beyond here?

He'd been envious of his brother, of the friendship that his brother had found while he himself was so lonely but now he could see the darker side of that same friendship.

Moriarty had kidnapped and selected John deliberately to weaken Sherlock and the only reason both John and Sherlock weren't dead is that John had pushed Sherlock into the pool and out of the way of the snipers bullets and the exploding building.

Mycroft remembered his arrival on the scene with a shudder. Building burning, his brother and John, were in the pool. Sherlock was fine but screaming. John was bleeding, the water was turning pink and red from his blood, bullet holes in his back and chest.

Mycroft had started building his own friendship with John and while it wasn't at the level that John and Sherlock's connection was he was quite fond of the doctor who possessed a delightfully sarcastic wit. He was worried not just about how his brother would survive if Doctor Watson didn't make it but worried about John himself.

He wasn't used to worrying about people besides Sherlock. His parents had both been cold and distant and both he and his brother had been raised by their staff. He manipulated people for achieve his goals, played the political game but he wasn't used to caring about them.

John seemed to have the gift of drawing out emotions from both Holmes brothers, a very rare talent indeed.

Finally, just as Mycroft was about to grab the phone from his brother's hands and force him out of his thoughts, the nurse came in.

From her posture, it was obvious that the news was as good as could be hoped. John was still alive. Mycroft hoped that would continue to be the case.


	126. Wish Come True

Title:Wish Come True

Prompt: blue

Word Count:221B

Notes: This is a continuation of drabble 38 An Impossible Wish.

Finally it was done. His wish was finally coming true. Both John and Mycroft had insisted that his discovery of how to enable male pregnancy was thoroughly tested on others before it could be used on him. The tests had been successful and now the press was less interested in stalking the pregnant male and their child, which was good.

He didn't want his pregnancy splashed all over the news, allowing all the criminals he'd captured throughout the years, know that now Sherlock had two vulnerable spots, his John and their baby.

The pregnancy test turned blue. It had worked. He was pregnant. He was carrying John's baby. They would have their dream of science museums and days in the park, laughter and family trips almost everywhere. A child or two that was a blend of him and John. He imagines family dinners and a child who's a mixture of the best of both of them.

"John!" he called as he ran into the bedroom waking the other man from his sleep.

John grumbled but sat up to pay attention to his husband.

"We're pregnant!" Sherlock exclaimed as he jumped into bed to snuggle with his spouse.

They grinned and exchanged kisses as their hands tangled together over Sherlock's stomach where something special was forming; their perfect little baby.


	127. Dude Looks Like A Lady

Title:Dude Looks Like A Lady

Prompt: paint

Word Count:221B

Notes:*giggles*

Sherlock applied the polish to his fingernails while glaring at John. He had to disguise himself as a woman for this case and John's giggles were not helping his already foul mood. Which was odd because normally John's giggles made him happy.

Of course, he'd teased John mercilessly when John had been made to wear a pirate's costume for his sister's Halloween party last month, so John was probably just striking back.

Once his nails were painted a bright shiny red, he shooed John away so that he could change into the gel filled bra that made it look like he had breasts and the overly tight and skimpy, blood red dress.

As he walked downstairs, John began humming "Dude looks like a lady..." loud enough for the detective to hear.

Sherlock grinned. Every night for the next week he'd play the worst violin songs he could possibly come up with and perhaps do smellier and nastier than normal experiments? He needed to do something to express his displeasure.

He put on his shoes, a pair of high heels to complete the outfit and left to solve the case. The case had better be as intriguing as he hoped or there would be hell to pay.

At least John had already promised not to put any pictures on the blog.


	128. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 1

Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 1/24

Prompt: Ringing Christmas Bells

Word Count:221B

Notes: If you're reading this on where I'm posting it within "Say Your Right Words" this is the first of the drabbles I'm doing for advent drabbles... Regular drabble will follow with the return of Bunsen the dog. :-)

Sherlock looked at the decorations that John was putting up with distaste. "What's the point of all this?" he asked as John put some ivy and ribbon around the skull.

"Christmas was never a good holiday when I was growing up or when I was in the service, but now that I've got a home and someone to share Christmas with I want to have a full holiday. The whole experience..." John said.

Sherlock cursed in his head. First he cursed John's bloody parents who didn't exactly warrant parent of the year cards, then he cursed the fact that this meant he'd have to celebrate the bleeding holiday. Which meant that he couldn't use his general lack of following any and all social cues to get out of buying John a present.

He didn't want to buy John a present. John was his best friend, his doctor, and the man that he happened to be in love with but Sherlock had no idea what to buy.

"If that's all right with you of course?" John asked, looking hesitant.

"No it's fine," Sherlock said forcing himself to smile. John wanted Christmas? Therefore John would have the best bloody Christmas ever, bring on the bleedin' bells.

Deck the skull with boughs of Holly, Christmas was coming to 221 B.


	129. Bath Time For Bunsen

Title:Bath Time For Bunsen

Prompt: deaf

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for britewing who suggested more Bunsen and mentioned bath time. :-) Hope you enjoy!

Dirt was everywhere. He had no idea how Bunsen had managed to find Mrs. Hudson's potted plants and annihilate them in less than two minutes but the Dalmatian puppy had outdone himself. Luckily Mrs. Hudson adored them and let them go with a sigh of their names, or they'd be out on the streets.

He knew John would not be pleased to come home to dirty paw prints everywhere, a messy flat and a messy dog, so he picked up the puppy and went into the bathroom with it. It was bath time for Bunsen.

He filled the tub up half way with warm water and put the wriggling puppy in the water.

Bunsen broke his heart with his barks and whimpers, he didn't like water apparently. Sherlock added soap to his fur and began to scrub and then rinse the dirt out. Bunsen was whimpering even as Sherlock cooed at him for being a good boy.

John came home and sighed. He'd had a long day at work and he was glad to be home. He followed the trail of noise and destruction upstairs.

He opened the door and there was Sherlock and their dog. Sherlock was soaking wet and Bunsen who'd just gotten out of the tub was looking smug.

Despite his miserable day, John burst out laughing. "Good Boy,"


	130. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 2

Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 2/24

Prompt:gingerbread men

Word Count: 500

Notes: Okay more a short story than a drabble but Sherlock muse had a lot to say today...

Sherlock was irritated as he walked upstairs. He'd said that he'd be out all day working on his experiments at Bart's but he'd done nothing more than check on them, before spending the whole day attempting to find a Christmas present for John.

He'd found smaller presents to stuff the man's stocking, mostly different types of tea. He'd found the smaller and less significant presents to put around the tree, several nice jumpers that he thought John would look amazing in and that were soft so when he leaned his head on John's shoulder after a long case he'd be comfortable... but finding an actual gift? That was proving impossible.

John didn't like fancy or expensive gadgets and when asked insisted that he'd be fine with anything Sherlock bought him. While that was both true and somewhat comforting, Sherlock wanted to get John a gift that would say what he could not put into words, a gift that would show all the things that John was to him. What do you get for the man that saves you from yourself, makes you feel and who never tries to change you? Jumpers and tea are highly inadequate.

His irritation faded at the sound of laughter upstairs. He could smell ginger and other spices as the smell wafted downwards.

He grinned and darted upstairs to join Mrs. Hudson and John. Mrs. Hudson had heard about John's desire for Christmas last night and after she'd cursed John's parents for never giving her dear boy a proper Christmas she'd insisted that she help John bake cookies.

They were decorating gingerbread men. Mrs. Hudson was putting the finishing touches on "that annoying Anderson bloke" as she explained. John's tongue was sticking out slightly as he concentrated on putting the finishing touches on his decorations. He dipped the frosting brush in the black and continued painting Sherlock's coat on a ginger bread man that was skinnier than the rest.

They were getting ready to put the frosting away when Sherlock noticed the problem. There were gingerbread men of all the people at the yard, John's surgery, Mrs. Hudson, even Mycroft (with a cocktail umbrella) and his name changing assistant were represented but there was no John Watson.

"There's no John! There needs to be a John!" he insisted when both of his favorite people asked him what was wrong.

Sherlock washed his hands thoroughly and got to work. He painted on a jumper and a pair of pants... did his best to give the face one of his favorite John expressions (the you're brilliant and an idiot at the same time did you know that, look), he made a little prop gun for one hand and using candy and paint made a stethoscope for the other.

A John Watson gingerbread man for the the gingerbread Sherlock...

"We should make a gingerbread house next..." he'd found himself saying. Bloody hell he was getting into the Christmas Spirit. What next playing carols on his violin?


	131. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 3

Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 3/24

Prompt:candlelight

Word Count:500

Notes: Hope this is good... I've got a sinus infection starting up and my brain is fuzzy.

Seconds after plans had been made to start a gingerbread house the next day and the mess in the kitchen had been tidied up, John and Sherlock had been called out on a case. It had turned out be easily solved and dull, something that both irritated and pleased the detective. He thrived on his work but he had a lot of things to do, such as plan a surprise Christmas party, without his observant and perceptive John figuring out what he was up to.

A Christmas party, Sherlock nearly shuddered in horror at the idea, even as he dragged his doctor to their destination. John and Mrs. Hudson had been talking that first day, while Sherlock had been distracted with measuring the rates various bits of metal dissolved in different acids, and Mrs. Hudson had suggested a Christmas party... mentioning how delightful it would be to prepare nibbles for everyone.

John had sounded pleased when he repeated it but then decided that they wouldn't have one because Sherlock didn't enjoy social events and he wouldn't force one upon him in his own home.

Since then, the idea had been in the back of Sherlock's mind, building up steam. He'd invite people that John liked, which unfortunately meant Mycroft (John had struck up a friendship with his annoying, interfering, all knowing, older brother) but he wouldn't invite Harriet... Not after the last visit, where Sherlock had learned just how bad John's childhood was... that harpy could stay home and do whatever it is she did when she wasn't shrieking at his John. She wouldn't be allowed to hurt John. No one was allowed to hurt John.

They arrived at their destination and Sherlock put all thoughts besides the here and now with John in the back of his mind.

Their usual table at Angelo's and the candle to make it more "romantic". Sherlock was pleased that John no longer adamantly denied being Sherlock's date.

Sherlock delighted in the way the flames highlighted some of John's best features as John browsed through the menu, while trying to coax Sherlock into eating.

He gave John his best smile, allowing his eyes to brighten with happiness (that wasn't feigned), and tried his luck once more, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"My best friend to actually consume food on a regular basis, do the washing up on occasion (No, Sherlock you don't leave the dishes as mold growth experiment, and we both know it...), to not find toes in the jam?"

John grinned back his tongue poking out slightly. Sherlock fought the desire to claim that tongue as his own...

Then his mind shouted out that it finally knew what to get John for Christmas and Sherlock grinned even harder and without it being an attempt to charm his flatmate into telling him what he wanted.

With that done, Sherlock agreed to eat some dinner and they enjoyed their candlelight supper for two, laughing and talking about Sherlock's latest experiment.


	132. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 4

Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 4/24

Prompt: tinsel

Word Count:221B

Sherlock finished his rapidly cooling tea and mentally prepared himself for today. He had to go and talk to his brother and since he was going to be asking for a favor, he'd have to be nice. Well, somewhat nice, Mycroft would be concerned if he wasn't sarcastic.

John had gone to work after they ate breakfast and engaged in their traditional play argument about John's boring and dull job.

John had left laughing while reminding Sherlock not to burn down the kitchen again. Set the kitchen on fire once and no one will let you forget it.

Before he could leave he heard the familiar sounds of his brother's footsteps and a knock on the door.

"I could tell you wanted to see me," Mycroft said, even as he set down some boxes from their childhood down on the living room floor, "After all you're planning a surprise for John, are you not?"

Boxes of old fashioned and fancy ornaments, tinsel and garland... John would be pleased by this although it would mean that they'd have to buy a tree.

"I'm throwing a surprise Christmas Party for John, you're invited," Sherlock said as he looked anywhere but at his brother.

Before his brother's mask went up, Sherlock had the satisfaction of knowing that he'd shocked his brother.


	133. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 5

Title: Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 5

Prompt: Christmas Market

Word Count:400

Despite the good start to the day, with Mycroft agreeing to Sherlock's Christmas party plans and even arranging the location and a distraction for John during the week leading up to it, the day nearly ended in disaster.

John had come home from work and Sherlock had suggested that they go to the Christmas market that was being held for the next few days.

John had agreed and off they'd gone. At first it was lovely, a huge decorated Christmas tree in the center, stalls with Christmas ornaments and other trinkets, people for Sherlock to observe and make sarcastic deductions that he whispered in John's ear, making the doctor laugh.

It was a perfect night. That was when Sherlock had deduced that John was hungry, so while John picked up some ornaments (a teapot, a medical bag, and a magnifying glass) for their tree, he'd gone to one of the food stalls.

He picked up some delicious smelling jam filled pastries and handed one to John.

He hadn't known John was allergic to grapes. John did all the shopping, cooking, and food selection most of the time.

John bit into the pastry and he'd gone pale. "Sherlock, we need to go to the medical tent, before I stop breathing, I'm allergic."

Sherlock had rushed John to the tent, but by the time they got there, John was barely breathing.

John was on the couch, drinking tea. All should be fine, but Sherlock was miserable.

He hadn't known John was allergic to grapes and he should have. How could he not know this about his John? What if they'd been somewhere on a case? Somewhere without prompt medical attention? John could have...

His thoughts were interrupted by John hugging him.

"It's okay Sherlock," John said as he led Sherlock to the couch, "It's all fine."

Sherlock allowed himself to be soothed by John's closeness and warmth. John was fine. He was okay and the detective would make sure that grapes, or anything grape related never made it near his John.

"You're not allergic to anything else are you?" he demanded.

"Nope, just grapes." John answered as he reached for the remote.

The classic animated Christmas movie about the green fluffy thing that hated people and Christmas was on.

It was at the song, the only Christmas song Sherlock liked...

"You're a mean one... Mr. Grinch..."


	134. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly Int

Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly: Interlude

Prompt: An interlude between this and prompt six, aka: promptless

Word Count: 700

Notes: Shifting points of view... indicated in bold. Prompt six has already been written in my head but has to wait until after class to be written out on the keyboard as I've got to go to class. :-(

**Sherlock**

Seconds after John left to do the shopping and run errands, Lestrade called with a case. Two people dead in a locked room with no windows, no ways for the murder to get in there and shoot the pair of them and then get out. A most fascinating case, I headed for the cab. The plan was to solve this case as fast as I could and then go back to the Christmas festivities with John. I didn't want to be without my blogger but John deserved a vacation. The case lasted an unbearably long seven days before I resurfaced.

**Mrs. Hudson**

I love both of my boys. My sons that didn't enter my life until they were grown but are mine to mother. I had always mourned the fact that I couldn't have children, until I learned that my husband was a serial murderer, then I was grateful for my infertility.

Right now, I'd like to scold Sherlock for the way he's treating our John. He hasn't said a word to John since he took this case that haven't been demands for tea, silence, or his phone. Not one word, and it's beginning to suck the happiness out of my boy.

**Mycroft**

Setting up a surprise Christmas Party for John has been a delight compared to the things I normally plan and set up, being the shadow that runs the government requires ruthlessness at times.

I enjoy doing this though. For John, the brave and loyal man, who taught my brother how to care.

John gave me back my younger brother and became the first friend I've ever had that didn't demand favors from me in return.

I'd do anything for John. Perhaps I should kidnap him again to distract him from Sherlock's latest case.

I wonder if he likes ice skating?

**Sally Donavan**

I miss John Watson. He's the one who makes the freak, Sherlock rather than the freak. I used to not see that distinction.

I was one of the first on the scene during the Moriarty case, the one who helped the paramedics move a screaming Sherlock away from a dying John.

I was one of the ones who held the screaming man in shock with the blood coated hands down.

That was the moment I stopped calling him the freak as an insult but a nickname without any bite to it.

Right now, he's back to his old emotionless ways.

**John**

I'm not upset that Sherlock's on a case and therefore wasn't available to go Christmas tree shopping with me or make the gingerbread house or anything else with Mrs. Hudson and I. He's on a case and I love watching the genius at work.

I'm upset that Sherlock's on a case without me and isn't even talking to me about it.

I feel abandoned and like Sherlock doesn't need me as much as I need him. I'm unnecessary.

I grab my phone and call up Sarah to pick up some more shifts at the clinic, at least I'm useful there.

**Sherlock**

I finish the case and I head back home excited and ready to share my success with John. I don't even realize it's been seven days until I see the completed gingerbread house, the undecorated live tree...

John isn't home.

I don't realize how awful I was to live with for the past week until John arrives home with the groceries and practically tiptoes to the kitchen trying to make as little noise as possible.

Suddenly my actions come back to me. "Tea!" "Quiet!" "Phone!" That's all I've said to my John for seven whole days.

I jump up and begin to help him put the groceries away. "Sorry I was such an ass."

"It's all fine, you were on a case," John says. I can tell that he's not as happy as he was.

"I thought you'd want to keep up your Christmas preparations, I didn't want the case to prevent you from enjoying them," I say adding, "I was lost without my blogger. All other doctors are idiots."

John smiles and I know I've said the right thing. I hadn't even realized I felt cold until his smile made me warm.


	135. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 6

Title: Deck The Skulls With Boughs Of Holly 6

Prompt: Kissing Ball (Like Mistletoe only in a ball)

Word Count: 500

When it comes to John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is often times an enormous idiot, rather than a genius. The day after he finished the seven day case is a stellar example of this.

John didn't have work so the day had started with breakfast, for both of them because Sherlock hadn't had a proper meal in seven days and John wouldn't take no for an answer so he'd eaten his beans, toast, tomatoes, sausages, and eggs without any complaint.

While they were eating, Sherlock told John about the case and added his usual complaints about everyone's level of stupidity. John laughed, called him brilliant in all the right places, and made guesses that were mostly wrong.

Then he answered Sherlock's questions about his own week. John doesn't get why, since his days are boring at the clinic but Sherlock always enjoys hearing about his work days.

Sherlock wants to know everything about John and keeps a file in his head full of trivial information that he'll never delete not even for the best case in the universe. He keeps information about how John takes his tea, which differs depending on which type of tea it is, how John butters his toast and favors strawberry jam, that John sings different songs off key in the shower depending on his mood, and always puts his socks on his right foot first but puts his shoes on starting with the left. He has thousands of data points like this and hopes to acquire at least a few thousand more.

They finished the tidying up of their breakfast dishes and headed out to the stores to pick up lights since although they had a tree, ornaments, and tinsel, they did not have lights to put around the tree first. This turned into a long trip as they couldn't decide if they wanted multicolored lights, clear lights, or lights of a single color... They finally decided on the multicolored ones that blink.

It was when they got home that Sherlock had his crowning moment of idiocy... more so than telling the man you'd winked at flirtatiously and had been drawn to the day before that relationships were not your area and that you were married to your work.

Mrs. Hudson had hung a kissing ball above the main entrance way.

Sherlock grabbed John and kissed him. It was a passionate, harsh, and demanding kiss.

"Just for tradition," he said, acting as though the kiss meant nothing, even though his mind was replaying it, fireworks were going off in his brain and he was practically euphoric. He acted as though he didn't want to press John against the wall and continue that kiss for the rest of eternity.

He pulled a red berry off of the ball and walked into the flat, acting as though nothing had happened, but his brain completely failed to register the fact that John had kissed back.

He also missed John's devastated and confused expression before John's face went blank.


	136. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 7

Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 7

Prompt:Kissing in the Snow

Word Count:221 B

Notes: Apparently I ate angst waffles with emo syrup for dinner... Happier drabbles soon I swear... the angst is necessary... there will be fluff... as soon as the boys cooperate.

Before John had to deal with the awkwardness that was pervading the room, his phone rang. There was an emergency at the clinic, his coworker, Amelia, had to go home and they were terribly short handed. John jumped at the chance to absorb himself into his work for a few hours.

He quickly changed into his work clothes and headed into work. He hoped by the time he arrived home, hours later, his mind would have forgotten the kiss, even though his heart never will.

The rest of the day dragged by. There were a lot of patients but the day just dragged on and on. He wanted to reset the day and remove that damned kissing ball, so that Sherlock wouldn't have kissed him like that without it meaning something.

The pain in his heart intensified during his walk home. There were two men, very much in love, sharing a romantic kiss in the snow.

John longed for that. He longed for someone to love him. Someone to kiss him in the snow, in the rain, or in the rare sunny days. He felt so alone. He hadn't felt so alone since Mike Stamford had introduced him to an eccentric genius who'd taken over both his heart and his mind.

He wished there was a cure for being heart broken.


	137. In Which Mrs Hudson Fixes It All

Title: In Which Mrs. Hudson Fixes It All

Prompt: 129 Mute

Word Count: 700

Notes: There, John, now that I've fixed things, can I go back to sleep without you making me feel guilty for piling the angst on you again? Part of the Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly set, just getting a different title because Mrs. Hudson deserves awesome points.

Sherlock stared at the door after John had left as his mind raced. John had looked like the offer of going to work was an offer of salvation. Had he ruined everything by kissing John? Would John not want to be his friend now?

He heard the stomp of furious footsteps heading up his way and he prepared himself for the verbal onslaught of Mrs. Hudson in a temper.

Mrs. Hudson's temper was a lot like John's, it took a lot to ignite it but once it was lit, sitting down, shutting up, and listening were your only hopes of surviving it.

"What have you done?" She yelled, "Are you sure you're a genius? Because right now you are being the biggest idiot I've ever seen!"

She took a deep breath and continued, "We're you deliberately setting out to sabotage your own happiness? You kissed him. John kissed back. Then you tell him it means nothing, and completely ignore the devastated look on his face. And you manage to hurt him so badly that his psychosomatic limp is back. Excellent job, I'm sure John still feels like this is the first time that he has a "family" to celebrate Christmas with now... You had better fix this or I'll..."

She stopped there and stormed off, completely missing the confused and hopeful look on Sherlock's face as the mute detective tried to confirm her statement.

His mind replayed the kiss and he came to the conclusion that yes, John had kissed back, and yes, he was an idiot...

What if he'd pushed John away and ruined it all? No John... Sherlock trembled in pain... No more laughter, no more being cared for after an injury, no more curling up on the couch with a cup of tea to make sarcastic comments about the crappy telly programs John was trying to watch, no more blog entries describing their cases, no more knowing that all he had to do was text and John would be there for whatever Sherlock needed.

He didn't know how to fix it. It wasn't like the case that he'd taken where it could be easily brushed aside as Sherlock being Sherlock and not realizing how he was acting.

He'd hurt John. He hadn't done it on purpose. He'd been trying to protect himself and in trying to protect himself he'd managed to hurt his own heart.

He needed an expert. "Mrs. Hudson!" he called as he went downstairs.

She opened her door and glared at him but gave him a chance to speak.

"I didn't... I..." She looked at the confused, hurting detective and her anger faded away.

"Oh Sherlock..." she fussed as she dragged him to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

"How do I fix it?" Sherlock asked as he ignored both the tea and the chocolate biscuits that had been provided.

Several hours later, Sherlock had tracked down John who was walking home from work, he must have forgotten his wallet, as it was cold and John wasn't fully dressed for walking home in the wet, damp, cold snow.

He saw John's devastated face from a distance, although the man had yet to see him, as he was too focused on watching a kissing couple.

Sherlock's heart began beating faster even as he made his approach. He grabbed John, who struggled slightly with a faint protest of "let go, Sherlock."

He kissed the top of John's head, his forehead, each of his eyelids, and his cheeks. "I love you," he said, "I'm an idiot and I'm sorry."

John gasped slightly and then he kissed Sherlock, a soft press of lips and a slow and gentle kiss.

"You're my idiot and I love you too," John said.

Sherlock grinned as the happiness that he was feeling threatened to overload his system. John loved him back... He hadn't lost John.

They walked home together, holding hands, and neither of them noticed the delighted and giddy Mrs. Hudson who had followed Sherlock and witnessed it all.

Her boys were finally together. She rubbed her hands together, gleeful at the sight of a plan coming together.


	138. Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 8

Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 8

Prompt: caroling

Word Count:221B

Notes: The only concert I've ever been to was a Celtic Woman concert, I didn't know anything about them, they were given to us because my mum in law bought the wrong tickets for herself and therefore had extras. Sadly, I went in July and therefore didn't get to hear a live performance of their Christmas music. I don't own them and they are used here because when I think Christmas Carols their rendition of Carol Of The Bells is the first thing that comes to mind.

Link To You Tube Video Of The Song: If reading on FF dot net... go to You Tube and Search for: Celtic Woman Carol Of The Bells. If reading on my journal click here.

Sherlock glared at the mirror as he finished dressing, he didn't want to go to some abysmal Christmas concert that Mycroft had gotten tickets for...

But John had been delighted and then that beloved, manipulative, wonderful, man had said the magic words, "It could be our first date."

Their first date. They were in love and officially a couple. Internet research suggested that this meant doing things not for cases but for fun.

So here Sherlock was getting ready to go to a concert. Celtic Woman, he knew nothing about the band as it was non-relevant data but any idiot could determine that they were female and more than likely Irish.

He opened the door and walked to where John was already waiting. John looked amazing, even more gorgeous than he usually looked and Sherlock said so.

They arrived early and sat in their seats... Then lights went off and Sherlock dreaded listening to badly sung by "performers" Christmas music for the next few hours.

It turned out to be an unfounded dread. Their voices were brilliant and the violin was beautifully played by one of the singers. The music washed over Sherlock and he was entranced. John whose warm hand was entwined with his seemed equally entranced.

He found himself happily humming along to _Carol Of The Bells._


	139. Eggnog Flavored Kisses

Title: Eggnog Flavored Kisses (Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 9)

Prompt: eggnog

Word Count:400

Notes: Decided to go back to individually titled chapters as Deck The Skull...*insert number here* was getting boring.

They arrived home after the concert, both of them holding hands as they talked softly about the concert. Sherlock kept John alternating between fascinated by the things Sherlock managed to notice, which he'd never not find amazing, and amused by the sarcastic way Sherlock was delivering his observations.

"Sit," Sherlock said as he nearly pushed John into the sofa cushion, "close your eyes."

John did as Sherlock ordered. He heard Sherlock in the kitchen and hoped he wasn't about to be presented with one of Sherlock's experiments.

He heard Sherlock take out a glass, grab something from the fridge and another something from a drawer.

Sherlock placed a cold glass in his hand, and John opened his eyes. It was a glass of eggnog with cinnamon sprinkled on top.

"You mentioned at the Christmas Market that you loved drinking it. I was going to buy some but..."

Sherlock trailed off not wanting to remember the horrifying moment when John stopped breathing.

"Thank you," John said giving Sherlock his favorite smile. The Sherlock's done something good and I'm happy smile.

Finding the recipe and making the eggnog had distracted him from his latest experiment but John was happy so it was worth it.

They sipped their eggnog as they sat on the couch leaning against one another. Sherlock was content but he wanted more. He wanted everything.

They hadn't had sex yet and they hadn't kissed since they'd kissed in the snow after Sherlock's confession. Sherlock wondered how to approach it, the internet suggested not saying flat out that you wanted it... but John usually favored the direct approach and Sherlock wanted to make love with John.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by John taking the glass from him and setting it on the table.

"You're thinking too hard. Don't worry about being the "perfect" boyfriend, just be you. That's who I fell in love with after all." John said as his hand went up to stroke Sherlock's cheek.

John kissed him while his mouth was still open and gaping at John guessing his thoughts, he'd thought he was keeping them hidden.

Eggnog flavored kisses were deliciously brilliant. John leading him to his bedroom after a series of kisses? That was even better. Better than serial murders, a lifetime supply of experimental cadavers, besting his brother at deduction...

Sherlock's mind was happily taken offline.


	140. Finding Pestilence

Title:Finding Pestilence

Prompt: fur

Word Count:500

Notes:

Sherlock woke up, naked, tangled against his lover. He smiled as he remembered last night, making love to John for the first time.

That was when the phone rang and spoiled the morning.

An hour later, Sherlock had been very carefully not pouting when his phone had let him know that Lestrade had a case for him. He'd been grateful to leave. He knew that Mycroft had arranged for John to be the last minute speaker at a convention but he didn't want to watch John leave.

Of course, John would be here to look at the crime scene but Sherlock hoped to be distracted by a case when he left tonight.

A woman lay murdered on the floor, there were two entry points were locked, one of them was a secret passage... there were all sorts of details that didn't make sense. It was delightful.

John and Sherlock were re-examining the body, John had already disproved several of Anderson's theories even going as far to ask him if he was sure he'd earned a medical degree? Which just made Sherlock love John more.

That was when they heard it, the faint sound of whimpering. Sherlock went to investigate while John finished proving that the injection marks on her wrist were older than the cause of death by at least two days.

It was a kitten. A young Siamese kitten probably about six weeks old and just separated from her mother, only for her new caretaker to be murdered.

She allowed Sherlock to pick her up and stood on his hands, blinking curiously at him with blue eyes.

Sherlock very carefully allowed himself not to think that she was cute.

John came over having finally won the fight with Anderson.

"Aw, aren't you a cute little thing," John cooed as he reached a hand towards the kitten. The kitten leaned into the hand, petting her and began to purr loudly.

He looked at Sherlock with wide dark blue eyes and Sherlock felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"No, John," he said.

The kitten looked at him as well with eyes that were bright and innocent.

"Please," John asked. The kitten merely curled up into Sherlock's hand and the part of his scarf that was down near it and took a nap.

Sherlock left the scene, still holding a napping kitten, and listening to John talk about how if they took her to a shelter she might get euthanized...

"Fine," he said with a sigh, he'd known it was hopeless the second that both John and the kitten had looked at him with pleading eyes.

He set the kitten on John's shoulder, where she curled up, tiny claws catching the wool softly and continued her nap with a soft little snore.

"This is our cat. Her name is Pestilence or Pest for short."

Now he would have two tiny tyrants ruling over him at home.

The smile that his lover gave him was worth it.


	141. A Study In Noise and Motion

Title: A Study in Noise and Motion (Deck The Skull... 11)

Prompt: Silent Night

Word Count:100

Notes: Late drabble today as I managed to sleep wrong and pinched a nerve in my neck and being on my computer is hell.

The hotel accommodations that Mycroft had put him in, were lovely. The room was nice. It was neat and uncluttered and utterly too quiet.

The peace and quiet should be nice but the lack of sounds made John feel lonely.

Sherlock was noise. He was violin music in the middle of the night, a loud burst of noise and words at 3 am, the sound of fire alarms at 6 am. He was a constant study in noise and motion.

Less than a day out of the three without him, and John already missed him. He wanted to go home.


	142. Missing John

Title: Missing John

Prompt: Sleigh

Word Count: 300

Notes: Final exam in a few minutes woe to the world.

John was going to kill him. Pest had been his responsibility for a day, and already the cat was missing.

"Pest, where are you girl?" he called as he searched for the cat, not that he was worried about the cat... No he wasn't. Okay maybe just a little. The cat had approved of him and John, tolerated Lestrade, loosely tolerated Sally and loathed Anderson, clearly the kitten had a very high IQ.

Finally just as he was about to beg the holly laden skull for assistance in telling John over the phone that he'd lost their kitten, he heard purring.

On the mantle, next to the skull where Mrs. Hudson had put a little decorative sleigh with a decorative Santa Clause laden with a bag full of Christmas Crackers, the tiny kitten was taking a nap, her little paws wrapped around the plush Santa.

"You are going to spend most of your life finding obscure hiding places and driving me crazy as I try to find you, aren't you?" he asked the cat who was he decided aptly named.

The kitten let out a meow and Sherlock picked her up and carried her to her food dish for her morning meal.

After her meal, and Sherlock's solving his case, Sherlock was once again looking for Pestilence.

He found her curled up in John's black and white striped jumper, purring and looking hopefully for John.

"I miss him too," Sherlock said, as he cuddled both the jumper and the kitten.

"Remember Pest, when others besides John or Mrs. Hudson is around, I'm a high functioning sociopath with no feelings or emotions towards you," Sherlock reminded the cat. The last thing he needed was for people to know that he actually had feelings, thank you very much.


	143. Wrapping Paper Chaos

Title: Wrapping Paper Chaos

Prompt:Christmas Ribbon

Word Count:221B

Notes: Part of Deck The Skulls (13). Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, commented, favorited or otherwise kept my muse encouraged to keep writing.

Preparing a surprise Christmas party, even with Mycroft handling most of the planning was hard work. But it was done and Sherlock was sort of pleased. He wasn't looking forward to being social and dancing and he'd already decided on his limit for that sort of thing.. but it would make John happy and that's been the point of this whole season.

John, who Sherlock missed terribly even though he'd only been gone for two nights and would be home today, Sherlock sighed and looked around the wrapping paper laden disaster area that was there sitting room.

Pest was happily playing with some discarded wrapping paper and some bright red ribbons. Sherlock kept getting distracted from his wrapping in order to play with the kitten. He didn't want the kitten to be unhappy, the internet said John's kitten needed play and attention.

John opened the door and burst into silent laughter. Sherlock was sound asleep sitting up on the floor, wrapped presents and wrapping paper debris scattered around him. Pest was asleep, purring contentedly, holding a bright red and well chewed ribbon between her paws.

It was great to be home, he thought, as he carried his luggage upstairs.

The speech had been exhausting and without Sherlock and his endless supply of chaos, John had been terribly danger free and bored.


	144. Decorating The Tree With Pestilence

Title: Decorating The Tree With Pestilence

Prompt: Christmas Lights

Word Count: 605 (Good enough! I'm tired.)

Notes: I'm becoming way to attached to this fictional Siamese. I wonder if I could convince my husband that we need a third cat. I want to hear the pitter patter of little paws.

They finally had a tree and could finally get around to decorating it. It had taken them a while to get a tree because first Sherlock had a case, then they had a communication error, then they had a case together where they got a certain kitten who was certainly not climbing the tree and getting into trouble right this second, if she knew what was good for her, and then John had been sent off to a medical convention for three days.

Getting a tree had taken forever. John had suggested a fake one but Sherlock insisted they get a real one, for the pine smell. Then for someone who still wasn't into Christmas, Sherlock had taken hours selecting the perfect tree. He insisted it had to be just right. John hadn't minded though. He loved watching Sherlock bounce about, analyzing trees carefully before rejecting it and moving on to the next tree.

But now they had a tree and they had it in it's stand. Getting it into their flat and getting that done and the tree straight had scandalized Mrs. Hudson and her guests downstairs as John had cursed up a bleeding blue streak about how the tree was straight enough as it was and what did it matter if it was a little bent to one side.

Then their was more commentary about how that was uncalled for and a suggestion on just where Sherlock could stick his ruler that had Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Turner, and Mrs. Potts, cringe.

Mrs. Hudson had finally shrugged and tried to distract her guests. Her boys would be boys, after all.

But finally that was done, and the tree was straight. They had music playing, Christmas music that Sherlock had labeled tolerable and John enjoyed, they had cups of eggnog, and a plate of cookies, from here decorating should be just fun right?

Pest kept climbing the tree. No matter how many times they scolded the little kitten or plucked her off the tree and set her elsewhere she kept climbing the tree.

Finally, Sherlock put her in John's room and they began to untangle the lights.

Pestilence's banishment didn't last long. John had decided to ignore her tormented heart rending yowls and apparently spending time giving toddler's their routine vaccinations paid off, since he was made of sterner stuff than Sherlock who ran upstairs after two minutes and returned cradling the mewling kitten in his hands.

Thankfully, this time she was content to take a nap on Sherlock's opened laptop and they were able to put the brightly colored light strands on their tree.

They put up the garland and the antique baubles on the tree which now looked like a right and proper Christmas tree.

Sherlock spent forever finding the perfect place for each ornament, explaining how his family had always hired a decorator for their tree so he'd never been able to decorate one... John placed his ornaments wherever the mood struck him. The chaos balanced out Sherlock's neat and orderly decoration, a sharp contrast to how it was John who brought the order and neatness to Sherlock's real life chaos.

Then John handed Sherlock the ornament he'd bought for him at the Christmas Market, a metal detective's magnifying glass. He hadn't noticed that John had gotten it engraved.

_Sherlock and John's first Christmas, 2011._

He traced it carefully for a moment, looking around at John who was arranging his medical bag ornament, the brightly colored and gorgeously decorated tree, their kitten sleeping on his laptop, the clutter surrounding them and he wished for a thousand more Christmases just like this one.


	145. Of Colds And Burning Chestnuts

Title: Of Colds and Burning Chestnuts

Prompt: chestnuts roasting

Word Count:221B

Notes: I have a cold and feel miserable so it's a short drabble without Pest, Sherlock and John because they aren't allowed angst or suffering for the remainder of this series.

Mycroft glared at the speaker playing carols. He wasn't in the mood. He was irritable and sick and why hadn't he ever gotten his teams of scientists to make a real cure for the common cold?

He was paying for his inattention to that last detail with a miserable cold and a lack of desire to do any of the things he needed to do. He just wanted to sleep, until his cold was gone.

It didn't help that most of the Christmas songs playing talked about being with someone, unless they were one of the Christmas songs lamenting the fact that person was lonely...

Mycroft was lonely and he was jealous. Sherlock had a lover and he didn't have one. Sherlock had finally found the person who would love and accept him the way he was, while he was still waiting for his person to show up.

He envied Sherlock not just John who was amazing and fantastic but the connection, Mycroft wanted someone to love him. To tend to him not for money or for the favors he could do for them but because they honestly loved him.

The radio was still playing, this time about Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and as he suffered through a particularly violent series of sneezes, he hoped that the chestnuts burned.


	146. Which One Is The Bride?

Title: Which One Is The Bride?

Prompt: five golden rings

Word Count:221B

Notes: None, is dead from fluffy writing.

It was impulsive. Completely impulsive.

John had been making breakfast, baby talking to a hungry and pouting Pest and the words had come out of his mouth without first going through his brain filter.

"Gods, I love you, marry me?" Sherlock processed what he said, and tried to backtrack but couldn't think of what to say. Their wasn't a case and he didn't think John would believe him if he used his usual reason for bizarre behaviors anyway.

"A little sudden but okay," John said, "It's not like everyone doesn't already assume we're an old married couple anyways."

Sherlock grabbed John and kissed him. Married, John and him were getting married, John hadn't freaked out by what Sherlock said.

Pest let out an indignant meow that said that she didn't appreciate Sherlock taking John's attention away when it was food time and therefore clearly her turn, and Sherlock had to turn and pay attention to the kitten as John had to keep breakfast from burning.

He wanted to go into the other room and jump up and down and be giddy.

As he sat down to his eggs and toast, John managing to get him to agree to eat, a thought struck him.

"John, which one of us is the bride?"

"You obviously, brides are beautiful."


	147. Party Pests

Title: Party Pests

Prompt: Father Christmas

Word Count:300

Notes: And the Christmas Party begins. Later chapters might not be in First Person Point Of View as I have a few dozen ideas to work into just a few chapters.

The Christmas Party is today, in less than two hours. John isn't sure why I want him to wear the outfit I'd laid out for him, but he'd put it on anyway. He looks stunning.

I don't want to socialize normally and I especially don't want to socialize now, when I just want to grab John and be with him. I don't want to share him with anyone.

John and I are getting married. I want to shout it to the world. John's mine and he wants me and we're getting married! I am exceedingly gleeful and I don't care.

I hear an indignant yowl and turn to look at Pest. She quickly makes several things clear: that it's her meal time and I'd better go downstairs and put some food on her plate, and that I better not think of leaving her here by herself to be bored.

Normal people leave their animals at home when they go out, how dull. I don't really want to leave her at home anyway. What if she gets hurt? She's just a tiny little kitten and she's so curious.

If something happened to her... I... no... John would be devastated.

This party is supposed to be about friends and family, and Pest is John's, no, _our_ family.

It's time to leave for the party. I go to John, tell him that we're going somewhere but I need him to close his eyes.

He does and as always his trust in me makes me feel so many confusing yet very good emotions.

I put a tie on him. The shirt goes well with it even if the tie does have a giant image of Father Christmas on it.

Pest, John, and I go downstairs and get in the car that Mycroft sent us.


	148. Surprise

Title:Surprise

Prompt: Christmas Tree

Word Count:500

Notes: No drabble yesterday as my body was making up for days of very little sleep by granting me a lot of it. ^_^

Mrs. Hudson grinned as she arrived, a little bit early than everyone else and took in the decorations. Mycoft Holmes had hired caterers but he had said that she could bake nibbles for everyone which is why she was early.

His assistant, such a dear girl, even if her name was always changing, today it was Mary, helped carry the tins and platters of baked goods to the appropriate tables.

Sherlock's older brother had really gone all out when it came to decorations. There were pine trees everywhere all of them decorated with different themes, mistletoe was hanging in various places and Martha was glad that John and Sherlock were together and therefore unlikely to go through another domestic, as she didn't feel like watching either of her boys hurt and she certainly didn't feel like trying to smack sense into them.

Guests began to arrive, Geoff Lestrade and his wife, that god awful Anderson chap and his wife, (Martha hoped that she knew about his affairs already since Sherlock wasn't good at keeping things like that quiet), Sally Donvan looking single and rather subdued. (Martha'd had a cup of tea with her the other day and knew that Micah Anderson had told her that he loved her and that he'd be divorcing his wife soon, only to not divorce her wife. Sherlock had been the one to expose his lies, and Martha had been the one to hear her crying as she came downstairs and had bustled her into her kitchen for a cup of tea and comfort.) She went to her and complemented her on her appearance and Sally had grinned and seemed to blossom into life. That was good she was taking the advice that Mrs. Hudson had dished out with the tea, that happiness was the best revenge.

Molly had arrived not long after, bright and cheerful and talking to Sarah. Both were giggling and Sally had soon joined them.

Mike Stamford had arrived and Mrs. Hudson liked him a lot even though she'd only met him twice because if not for him, her boys would never have met. John wouldn't have become her tenant and she wouldn't have watched the walls Sherlock built around himself fall as he learned that he did have a heart.

Finally, Mycoft arrived and announced that John and his brother would be here soon. A few minutes later, Sherlock, John (with his eyes closed). Sherlock was holding the kitten. Mrs. Hudson wasn't surprised, after all, Sherlock could pretend all he wanted that he didn't like the cat but it was obvious that he adored the kitten almost as much as he adored John.

"Sherlock, where are we?" John asked with his eyes still shut.

"Open your eyes and find out." Sherlock said.

Everyone shouted out greetings as John opened his eyes and looked around.

"A surprise Christmas Party?" John asked.

"Well, what better way to throw a party for you then to surprise you, obviously,"Sherlock said.


	149. His Happiness

Title: His Happiness

Word Count: 945

Notes: Sorry it's been so long. First I had health problems, then computer problems, then I injured my hand... all keeping me away from typing. Haven't seen season 2 yet so it's spoiler free.

Mycroft's point of view:

Contrary to my brother's belief, I don't know everything. He disables my security cameras near the flat so often that I don't get pictures or audio most of the time, so how was I supposed to know.

The truth of John's childhood was not in his psychiatrist's notes nor was it found in his school records, so I didn't know. I didn't know that inviting _her_ would be not good. I didn't know that the relationship between Harriet and John made Sherlock and I look like the best of friends.

Prior to _her _arrival things were going well. John was laughing. Sherlock was behaving and not making people throw drinks in his face. Mostly because Sherlock was only paying attention to John, Mrs. Hudson, and the kitten perched on his shoulder.

John had dragged Sherlock to the dance floor while their landlady held Pest. They were happy. Sherlock was actually laughing it was a rare moment that I was planning on cherishing... my brother being the way he was before he pushed everyone and every emotion away.

That was when the door burst open. Harriet Watson stood in the doorway, drunk, her voice exceedingly shrill as she screamed at John. According to her, before John was born, everything was find. It was his fault that their mum died of ovarian cancer when he was born. His fault that their dad was an alcoholic. His fault for the beatings. I had my men drag her out of the room but she had done what she'd intended she'd ruined John's happiness.

Sherlock had hissed and snarled at me but John said, "Don't worry, You didn't know, It wasn't your fault."

He'd been too pale with trembling hands when he left. I hadn't known. I wish I had... I...

Harriet's Point Of View:

I sit on the cold, wet, ground angry that those men had dragged me out of the party. I had been invited. I had told the truth. Everything was John's fault. What right did he have for happiness?

It was his fault that Mummy had died. If she hadn't been pregnant... she wouldn't have refused treatment and she would have lived. Everyone said that John was a blessing for us but Dad and I knew the truth... it was his fault.

He'll be coming out here soon and that's my only comfort. I ruined his happiness and told those people just how pathetic, worthless, and vile my little brother was. Let's see how he keeps his blog now, without his friends to write about.

I expect to see my brother with his head hung low, as he should be and instead I get...

John is laughing, a little pale, but he's laughing. The man next to him, the curly haired pretty one, is talking animatedly. The curly haired one is wearing a Santa hat and they walk by me without noticing.

I don't say anything because I'm stunned. He's laughing and happy. How could my words not matter? The hat has a moving, shaking, tale how odd.

Sherlock's Point of View:

As she spits out her vitrol and hatred, I feel John's hand tremble under my arm. I want to kill her. I don't care that most of Scotland Yard is here and that they'd witness it, I want to put that throat under my hand and squeeze until she's silent.

John had been happy. The tedious, boring, socializing had been worth it for the happiness on John's face.

Mycroft's men drag her out and I know that Mycroft is swearing vengence. He does so hate it when people ruin his plans and John is one of the few people that Mycroft calls friend. Harriet might find her life quite difficult in the near future. Mycroft and I rarely work together but when we do...

I'm furious. At myself for not including in big bold letters on the list that Harriet Watson is not invited. At Mycroft, because I don't like it when he's not all knowing at times like this, and for assuming that I had just forgotten her name.

John's stopped me from snarling and snapping at my brother and is reassuring Mycroft that it's not his fault that he hadn't known. That's John right there, comforting, reassuring, "It's not your fault..." how his own family can't see that he's compassionate, caring and warm is beyond me. His hand are trembling, the limp might return and still he's comforting Mycroft and me that it's not our fault.

I pull us out of the room and into a quiet unoccupied one. I won't have him out where she is probably waiting to hurt him further while he's so vulnerable.

"John" I say softly as I rub my fingers over his cheeks.

"Don't let her win Don't let her ruin this..."

John leans into my touch and absorbs my attempts at a comforting touch. Once he's no longer trembling and he begins to behave like my John Watson again, I pull out the surprise I had in my pocket, a Santa hat... one of those gaudy bright red abominations.

I set Pest, who has been watching everything with an expression saying that she was out for the blood of the person who upset one of her humans, on top of my head.

I set the hat on top of my head and the kitten so that only her tail is visible. Her tail twitches against my head and John laughs.

I lead my family to the waiting car. I see her waiting for us and I ignore her as we walk to the car to head home.


	150. Warm Snuggles

Title: Warm Snuggles

Prompt:Hot Toddy

Word Count:221B

Notes: I want warm snuggles. It's cold and my allergies are bad but I can't take the benedryl to often as it's a very effective sedative for me. I'm drowning in emails but I promise to try and answer reviews today! I'm also trying to wrap up the end of the Christmas series so that I can start new musings! So there might be a drabble explosion tomorrow.

The pair of them sat on the sofa, leaning against one another. Pest had reached her limits of tolerating human affection and had gone off to sleep against the skull, the second that they had gotten home. Sherlock had muttered about that before deciding that the skull was a suitable place for his kitten to sleep. John was just amused by the fact that Pest's ownership was passed between them... Wasn't Pest his cat?

"Our Cat," was Sherlock's brilliant answer.

It was almost Christmas and John was feeling a little nervous about his gifts for Sherlock. Would Sherlock like them?

Sherlock on the other hand was excited. He knew John would love his gift and couldn't wait to give it to him. It wasn't the most romantic of gifts, since they hadn't been together when he'd picked it out but it was practical and something John would appreciate.

Maybe he could add something romantic to it? Sherlock made a mental note to google romantic additions to Christmas presents tomorrow, he couldn't be arsed to get up now. He was extremely comfortable.

Pest let out a loud noise that was half purr and half snore, making her humans giggle.

For now, they sat on the sofa, recovering for the night gone wrong, snuggled together, legs entwined, drinking their warm alcoholic beverages.


	151. Why The Wall Had It Coming

Title: Why The Wall Had It Coming.

Prompt: None

Word Count:221B

Notes: I probably won't get to see season two until it airs here in May. :-( On the plus side it gives me months to know that my heart will be ripped out and for authors to write good John/Sherlock fix its for whatever is wrong.

I need to finish rereading what I've written so far on the Deck the Skull series so here's something new.

Also this is how I injured my hand. Sadly I only have a Nerf gun.

Sherlock was most of the way asleep as he walked towards the bathroom. That he dreamed about his attractive and straight flatmate wasn't a surprise, neither was the violin but Harry Potter? Yes he'd been forced to watch the movies and planned on deleting them, except possibly for the memory of John falling asleep on his shoulder in the middle of the movie, he was rather fond of that bit. So why did it interfere with his dream just as he was about to go down on his knees in front of a naked John?

OW! Pain hit him and he was woken the rest of the way up as his hand hit the wall as he turned the corner.

Not again, stupid bleeding wall.

Sherlock sulked all morning about the bruise forming on his knuckles.

The lack of cases were horrible and hateful. No crimes, nothing to keep John here with him, no cases to distract him from his hopeless attraction to his only friend.

His hands clenched into fists, which made his bruised knuckles hurt. The wall had it coming. He drew a yellow smiley on the wall, grabbed the gun and proceeded to empty the bullets into the damn wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" John yelled as he arrived home with the shopping.

"Bored!"


	152. I Will Not Throttle

Title: I Will Not Throttle The Man While He's Sick

Word Count:221 B

Notes:

"I will not throttle the man while he's sick," was the mantra that kept running through John's head. Sherlock was sick but instead of doing the logical thing and sleeping like his doctor and best friend kept telling him... he kept insisting that he was fine and working on the case.

His temper was even more irritated than normal and thanks to that so was John's. He wished Sherlock would at least listen to him. He was a doctor after all, he did know how to deal with the flu.

It wasn't even that important of a case it was one labeled dull and pointless.

"John," Sherlock called.

John stopped, wondering if he should drug Sherlock's tea and went to the other room.

He placed his hand on Sherlock's head and Sherlock leaned into the cold hand. His fever had worsened.

John dragged him to bed, scolding him all the while, even as he gently eased Sherlock down, brought him some medicine, an extra blanket and a cold cloth for his head.

It was going to be a long night. There was only one way to keep Sherlock, where he belonged. He lay down next to the detective and fell asleep with his arms wrapped around the detective in a tight hold, despite being on top of the blankets.


	153. The Great Blanket Mountain

Title: The Great Blanket Mountain

Prompt: mountain

Word Count:221B

Notes: So I'm sick and someone has to suffer. Sorry Boys! But there will be snuggles afterward.

The flu virus had finally left him and Sherlock wanted to be happy. The mountain of blankets piled on his blogger prevented this. Sherlock was fine but the damn virus had switched to John and the doctor was even more ill and irritable than Sherlock had been.

He had been swearing before he lost his voice but the fire in his eyes let Sherlock know that he was still cursing up a blue streak even if his voice was now incapable of letting the words out.

Normally, Sherlock was the dramatic one and John was the steady, calm, patient and caring one... but his doctor made a terrible patient. A coughing, feverish, nauseous patient, with the temper of a rabid bear.

The detective wished that he still had the flu because at least John knew how to make him feel better.

Sherlock wracked his brain for ideas on what to do... comforting people wasn't his area... but his blogger was miserable.

Sherlock walked to the blanket mountain, kissed John's forehead and eased his hand onto John's back and began rubbing John's back in slow circles.

John's coughing eased and he soon fell into a deep sleep.

Sherlock grabbed his computer, file notes, and everything else he needed to solve cases from the great blanket mountain that used to be his bed.


	154. Divorcing Work

Title: Divorcing Work

Word count: 221B

Prompt: Work

Notes: Didn't like the first drabble I wrote for this prompt but I like this one. It takes place right before the I have a date, What? scene in The Blind Banker...

People didn't interest him... they were dull and often petty. They were cruel. They assumed the worst out of him and treated him like a freak. His work was his salvation, what kept his mind from driving him mad, what kept him from drugs, or from suicide. His work had once been all that he had.

Then Mike Stamford, one of the few people he could tolerate for more than a minute, had brought him John Watson. John wasn't petty. He wasn't cruel, he tried to understand. Right from the start he'd been interesting. He hadn't thought Sherlock was a freak, he'd been amazed and impressed by Sherlock's reasoning.

Army doctor, Sherlock's moral compass, his only friend... A puzzle. Sherlock could never quite figure him out. John was different, he made Sherlock want to be different. He made Sherlock feel. He made Sherlock want. He made Sherlock wish he hadn't turned down any chances of more that day at Angelo's.

His work was about to find itself divorced. It would still be important, a driving force in his and John's life but Sherlock wanted...

His flatmate walked in, home from his first day at work.

"John, I'm divorcing my work," Sherlock announced as he stood up and kissed John. His friend's arms wrapped around him as John kissed him back.


	155. Another Unmatched Person

Title:Another Unmatched Person

Word count:221B

Prompt: alone

Notes: Soulmate Au! Will be playing in this verse with a longer fic, possibly.

He was an anomaly, a freak. Everyone knew who their soulmate was, even Mycroft had his soulmate, but him. Everyone paired up, usually by the time they were 20 but Sherlock was nearly 35 and still hadn't found his partner yet. He was a freak. Everyone treated him like there was something wrong with him.

He was alone and he felt it. He'd always felt lonely but as he got older and everyone around him found their mate but he was left alone, it worsened. He'd turned to drugs because the glorious wonderful high dulled the sensation of being without a match.

Then came the day that another unmatched person, about his age, possibly a year or two older, came into Bart's, with Mike Stamford accompanying him. An unmatched flatmate, could he possibly be the one Sherlock had given up looking for.

Their hands touched as the man, John, passed him the phone, and Sherlock knew. Finally, his soulmate had appeared and Sherlock would never let him go.

His haircut and bearing screamed out soldier. He was a doctor, so a former army doctor, he had a psychosomatic limp, (Sherlock could fix that) an alcoholic brother who had given him a phone, the dark tan...

So where had his partner been?

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked.

And so it began.


	156. I Can't Sleep

Title: I Can't Sleep

Prompt:babble

Word Count: 200

Notes: For KatheeHDS who asked that I write the drabble I said that I could have written when I was suffering for insomnia. I hope you like it. :-)

Seven days. It had been seven long days since he'd last had a decent nights sleep. He kept waking up seconds after he'd fallen asleep if he even fell asleep at all.

"I can't sleep. I can't sleep... I can't sleep..." he babbled as he rocked himself back and forth. Everything hurt. He just wanted to sleep.

John came in late from his date with Jane or Jill or some other female J name...

"I can't sleep!" he roared at John as he jumped up from his spot on the couch. He felt angry, out of control, vulnerable, emotional...

"I can't sleep..." he said in a softer tone as he began to cry. He didn't know why he was crying. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to sleep.

John went into doctor mode, scolding Sherlock for not telling him about it days ago. How can John be his doctor if Sherlock didn't tell him what was wrong.

John called in a prescription sleep med for him and went to pick it up.

An hour later, Sherlock was in his bed, John sitting next to him petting his hair, as he faded off into blissful restful sleep.


	157. Home

Title: Home

Prompt: content

Word Count:221B

Notes: Math homework is eating my brain.

John opened and closed the fridge as if hoping that the contents would get less horrifyingly grotesque and more like food. He'd been gone for a week and he'd asked Sherlock before he left and reminded him with a text if he would do the shopping since he wouldn't get in until 3 am.

Sherlock obviously hadn't done the shopping... John sighed and shut the fridge. Sherlock was out and John didn't feel like joining him and just wanted to sleep for a week. The convention had been exhausting and sleep sounded promising.

The delicious smell of bacon and eggs met his nose. John blinked, certain that he must be dreaming... No, Sherlock was standing there holding out a plate of breakfast.

They sat down on John's bed and ate bacon and eggs as they talked about what had gone on during the week that they hadn't already texted about, which was surprisingly very little.

What they didn't talk about was that John had missed Sherlock more than he'd missed his girlfriend, or how Sherlock had missed John so badly that nothing had felt the same without John home. They both knew.

"So what did you get me?" Sherlock asked as he began going through John's luggage.

"A book on manners," John teased, sometimes Sherlock was a real brat.


	158. Sherlock Has A Plan

Title: Sherlock Has A Plan

Prompt: devious

Word Count:221 B

Notes: A silly and fun drabble to write.

Sherlock rubbed his hands together in glee, as he bounced around the room. John was on a date but he wouldn't be for long. Sherlock had a plan.

The woman, was dull, dreadful, boring and unsuited for John. Also, he was tired of John's dates with other people. What did John need his dates for anyway?

What did he get from dates that Sherlock couldn't provide? Sherlock and John went on dates all the time by John's definition...

He grinned again, and then proceeded to text John.

_We're out of milk. ~SH_

_So go to the store.~JW_

_Dull. ~SH._

_Sherlock, I'm on a date. I'm not leaving just so that you can put milk in your tea. ~JW_

_Bored! ~SH_

_Sherlock! Don't shoot the wall again!~JW_

_Bored! Maybe I'll try making an explosive. ~SH_

_Cindy threw her drink in my face. On my way home. Will pick up milk. Don't make a bomb or shoot the wall. ~JW_

Date finished. Now to make it so no one else realized just how good John was... Scaring off his girlfriends was fun but he was getting tired of the endless parade of dates.

He'd have to act more affectionate than normal, hugs and standing as close to John as possible, perhaps even flirting... He'd make even strangers conclude that John was his boyfriend.


	159. Lazy Domestic Moments

Title: Lazy Domestic Moment

Prompt:hairbrush

Word Count:221B

Notes: The return of Anime!Catboy!Sherlock. I really wish I could draw the image in my head.

Sherlock was practically purring as John ran the brush through his dark curls, taking special effort to avoid hitting his pointed cat ears.

John didn't comment on his purring since he knew that Sherlock would be irritable all day, and he didn't want to ruin his day off by having to listen to the violin screech and Sherlock's huffy silence.

He had the day off from work and there were no cases.

Running the brush through Sherlock's hair and spending a day on the couch watching crap telly was all John wanted.

It was relaxing. The rhythmic and repetitive motion of running the brush through unruly hair. The sound of Sherlock's purring. The warmth of Sherlock's body as he leaned closer and closer.

It was perfect... but it made John want and he wouldn't have sex with his lover while Sherlock had a tail. Hopefully, Sherlock managed to undo this soon as it was getting frustrating.

Sherlock pouted as John stopped, even as he looked at him with pleading eyes. John sighed, he knew it was difficult for Sherlock as well. Not only did he have to deal with the teasing and worse name calling but John wouldn't do more than kiss him.

"You're lucky I love you," John said as he grabbed the brush.


	160. The Trouble With Leather Trousers

Title:The Trouble With Leather Trousers

Prompt: leather

Word Count:221B

Notes: Story may be awful... I've got a black spot migraine coming in.

John was wearing leather trousers. It was for a case, Sherlock's brain shouldn't even notice John's attire beyond noting that he was wearing the required attire but... John was wearing leather trousers and Sherlock's brain was in danger of immediate meltdown.

He wanted to allow John to ensnare his senses but John wasn't his and just walking up there pressing against him and kissing the breath out of him would be a bit not good.

He wouldn't risk John's friendship since he didn't know if his feelings were returned. What if John moved out or was horrified?

John moved and Sherlock's eyes were once more glued to his friend's assets.

The killer had a type and John fit it perfectly. Sherlock had always known that John was gorgeous but seeing him like this... Sherlock hadn't been prepared for that.

He was waiting for the killer to come, as he watched from afar.

He wanted to be in there. He didn't want to be too far from John, he wanted to be there to protect him from admirers but he couldn't risk scaring the killer.

John was on the dance floor as instructed and Sherlock cursed loudly in his head as he prayed that the killer would show himself soon.

Especially since the cameras kept focusing on John's gorgeous, amazing, tight bum.


	161. Burning Jealousy

Title: Burning Jealousy

Prompt:incense

Word Count:221B

Notes:

Anger, jealousy and desire burned through him as John danced. Sherlock tried to force his brain to focus on the man dancing with John who fit the profile of their serial killer but he wanted to go over there. He wanted to shove the man touching John away and claim the doctor as his own. He needed to focus on doing his part, but the jealousy burned through him and the smoke was preventing him from seeing clearly.

The man led John away and tried to murder him about two block from where the first victim had been found. He quickly found himself on the ground and handcuffed and in Lestrade's custody.

Sherlock found that the anger and frustration was over powering the normal euphoric sensations of another successful case... He found himself silent as the taxi made it's way home.

He wanted... John was beautiful, John was amazing. John should be his.

John began to go upstairs to change having given up on talking to him for now, although Sherlock knew that he'd try again in a few moments with a cup of tea in hand.

Sherlock pounced. He grabbed John, pinned him against the wall, and kissed him hot and possessively. His hands stroked that deliciously tight arse. "Mine," he said between kisses, when they weren't sharing breath.


	162. Of Marriages And Fists

Title: Of Marriages and Fists

Prompt: eternity

Word Count:221B

Notes:

"Do you John Hamish Watson, take Mary Elizabeth Morstan, as your lawfully wedded wife..." The pastor droned on.

John knew the answer he was supposed to say, the answer that everyone expected him to say. They had been thrilled that he was moving on. Only Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft knew that he hadn't moved on, he'd just gotten tired of being alone.

Sherlock was dead. There was nothing left. Just an eternity of waiting until he too died.

Mary didn't even seem to like John much, she was just in her late thirties and wanted a broken husband she could fix.

John wanted Sherlock. He wanted Sherlock to burst through this door and drag John off, back to the land of mysteries, danger, no sleep, random body parts... back to when he'd had his best friend, a home, and a life that had been everything.

"I object," yelled a familiar voice as the door burst open. Sherlock stood there. The gasps and cries of everyone told John that everyone else saw him so John wasn't hallucinating.

Sherlock stood in the back, John walked towards him, he wasn't certain if he was going to scream, cry, punch or hug the man. He might do all of them. Their hands met. John's fist introduced itself to Sherlock's jaw.

Sherlock was back.


	163. Terribly Cliché

Title: Terribly Cliché

Prompt: afterlife

Word Count:221B

Notes:

Sherlock felt himself dying and fading. His only thought as he dropped the empty syringe was, if there's an afterlife let me find John. Let me see John again.

He found himself clad in white with a cloud, he was holding a harp. He scowled at the harp slightly in irritation, he didn't even know how to play the harp and this was terribly cliché.

A voice made him stop staring, made him get up and run. "Sherlock," John called.

Sherlock held him, gathered him close. Cliché didn't matter. What mattered was John was here. John was with him. He wasn't alone.

The pair of them sat down on a shared cloud with harps.

"Eternity seems a little boring," John complained.

"At least I have you," Sherlock said. Remembering the days after John's death, before John's funeral and overdose, remembering the overwhelming and all consuming grief.

Sherlock woke up on the sofa, a blanket over top of him, the sound of John cooking breakfast in the kitchen... Just a dream...

"Are you all right?" John asked.

Sherlock jumped off the bed and towards John, he gathered him tightly in a hug, breathing in the essence of John.

"You died..." he said. He clung tighter to John, listening to the steadiness of his heart beat, sobbing brokenly.


	164. A Tale Of Two Wishes

Title: A Tale Of Two Wishes

Prompt:wish

Word Count:221B

Notes: Had a bunch of math homework to do and still have a bunch more. What was I thinking?

Every year, until he'd stopped believing in wishes, Sherlock had wished for the same thing on his birthday, a friend. Every year, unfortunately, a friend wasn't to be found but bullies were found instead. Sherlock turned to first science, then drugs, and then finally cases. He was cold and distant because what was the point of being nice when no one understood him anyways. He was alone and trying to convince himself he was happy that way.

John Watson's birthday wishes had always been varied as a child. He'd wished for silly things, like a pony, and serious things like make mummy and daddy stop drinking... When he was older however and in a terrible place, suffering from being sent away from the war and his duties, when he felt alone and unloved, he made a wish while holding a loaded gun to his temple, knowing that he wouldn't pull the trigger. "Please, I need someone who will care..."

Fate was watching, had always been watching and planning for them to meet, and it was time. John Watson was limping through the park, and old friend called his name. Upon hearing that John was looking for a flatmate he introduced him to an acquaintance of his, and thus the pair did meet. A meeting, a wink, and a game began.


	165. Cold Rainstorms and Warm Blankets

Title: Cold Rainstorms and Warm Blankets

Prompt: storm

Word Count:300

Notes:

John shivered in the taxi cab on his way home. He was cold, tired, and furious. He'd been caught in a rainstorm, in nearly the middle of nowhere, in a place that Sherlock had been supposed to meet him. He'd still be waiting out in the rain, if Mycroft hadn't texted him to let him know that Sherlock had ran into an old friend and was eating lunch.

He went to the flat, poured himself a cup of tea and planned how he'd murder his flatmate. He fell asleep still in his soaking wet clothes, head propped up against the table.

For the first time in a while, Sherlock dreaded opening the door and going home. Since the moment that Mycroft had sent him the text with the picture of John waiting for him in the rain, he'd known that he'd done something a bit not good.

He hadn't seen Victor in years and he'd enjoyed eating lunch and telling Victor all about his cases and all about John. Victor had been annoyed by the fact that all Sherlock talked about was his flatmate.

It was quiet in the flat. Perhaps John had gone out to the pub, he did that when he was furious. He heard a sniffling breath from the kitchen. John wasn't the type to cry... so what was the noise?

John was shivering, asleep, still in his wet clothes... he was going to get sick and it would be Sherlock's fault.

He felt his stomach tense with deserved guilt...

"John," he nudged his friend up slightly.

"go 'way, Sherlock, mad at you..." John slurred through chattering teeth.

"I know but lets get you warm," Sherlock said as he eased John out of his clothes and into dry ones and wrapped him in blankets.


	166. Oncoming Illness

Title: Oncoming Illness

Prompt:candles

Word Count:221B

Notes: Math test tomorrow. Review sheet left to complete so naturally I'm cooking up food and writing fanfiction. :-)

John had quickly fallen asleep as Sherlock was wondering if it was possible to prevent the oncoming illness.

He really didn't want John to be sick, not just because it would be his fault but because John's temper when he was ill was fierce. Sherlock didn't like dealing with angry John but he especially didn't like dealing with ill and angry and it's all your fault, Sherlock John.

He'd just started to google how to stop a cold, when the power went out. No internet, no electricity, and he'd probably have an ill best friend tomorrow, fantastic.

Sherlock walked carefully to the kitchen, managing not to trip on anything... he smiled at John's emergency drawer because the drawer stocked with candles, a first aid kit, and other emergency supplies was just absolutely John...

He lit a candle and set it on his bedside table. It was enough to read by as he kept an eye on John.

John's eyes opened slowly and Sherlock turned and gave his best puppy dog eyes to his dear doctor...

John sighed and started to forgive him until he started to cough.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I ran into an old acquaintance of mine... I wouldn't call him a friend, since he never wanted to be near me when others were around..." Sherlock began.


	167. John Is

Title: John Is

Prompt: Miracle

Word Count:500

Notes: This was in my head all last night while my xanax was slowly flooding through my brain... Don't panic!

John was... my mind is shutting down someone is screaming... John is... a paramedic is inserting a needle in my veins, I'm beginning to feel a protective wall of apathy. The screaming stops it must be me.

I fade out of consciousness and I wake up hours later in a hospital room. John isn't sitting next to me, ready to scold me for taking unnecessary risks... and then I remember.

A crime syndicate that I was tracking, so close to solving the case and bringing them all before the yard. A most excellent and difficult case. They knew I was getting close... they hired an assassin. John heard them, John fired his gun but was shot in return.

John was shot in the chest. My hands on the warm bleeding wound as he bled out in front of me. My shaking hands calling for help, knowing that it would be to late. John telling me goodbye with the last of his breath as I sobbed. I love him. Why didn't I ever tell him? Why?

He's dead. Oh god, John is dead. The tranquilizer isn't working. I can feel the grief, the rage, and the pain all flooding back to me. John, my John... is dead.

The one who always listened to me, always tried to understand me, who brought me endless cups of tea, who made me laugh, who made me care, who forced me to eat and sleep, my wonderful amazing John is gone.

I start to get up and my brother appears. I don't want to deal with him. John is dead. Someone killed John and I will destroy them. I don't have the energy to deal with Mycroft. I'll deal with John's murderers and then... and then... I'll leave here. I'll close myself up and do nothing because John is dead.

"The surgery went well," Mycroft says and I don't understand because I didn't have surgery and John is dead and I can't think. I can't breathe, I think I'm crying because John is dead and everything is broken.

"John's in critical condition, but he pulled through the surgery so there's a good chance that he'll make it." he continues.

"Where?" I demand bouncing out of bed. John isn't dead! It's a miracle but I need to see him. I need to see his chest rise and fall... hear the beats of his heart. I need to see the evidence with my own eyes because my eyes and mind had him dead.

I'm led to John... I'm listed as his next of kin because Harriet isn't the most reliable of caretakers in an emergency. I'm at his side where I belong. His warm hand in mine. He's asleep but he's breathing. I count the rise and fall of his chest. I listen to the monitors monitoring his heart and I glory in the sound.

There's still a chance that John might die but I know what to do.

"You will get better, John," I demand.


	168. What Is This Feeling?

Title: What Is This Feeling

Prompt:slut

Word Count:400

Notes: This was a difficult fill because the prompt word is one that I find offensive... but I think I managed to write it without hitting what I find offensive about the word.

John was out on yet another date with yet another girl. Sherlock curled up in a ball on the sofa. Not only were there no cases but Sherlock was dealing with a confusing mix of feelings that he didn't understand.

He recognized jealousy and loneliness. He didn't like that John wasn't spending much time at home. He didn't like other people being responsible for John's smile or his laugh. Both the smile and the laugh were Sherlock's favorite responses to earn from John. He didn't like seeing them directed at other people.

But why did it hurt so much? Why did it hurt when he'd asked John to dinner and he'd said no he had a date? It wasn't just loneliness or jealousy. It wasn't anger or sadness... he didn't understand what is this feeling?

Sherlock didn't understand and it was frustrating.

John returned home at about three am, bite marks all over his neck...

"I don't know why you bother living here," Sherlock began, "you're never home. You've turned into a bit of a slut..."

John looked at Sherlock, angry, annoyed and hurt.

"Well excuse me for trying to find a relationship! The one I love doesn't love me so I have to make do!" he yelled as headed to the kitchen for some tea.

Sherlock stared at John. "Who is it that you love?" he began deducing. "It's a man or else you would have said woman not one, but who are you close to that's male?... Lestrade, no you don't show any signs of attraction, Mycroft, John please tell me it's not my brother?"

"No!" John exclaimed looking properly horrified at the idea of dating Mycroft, which appeased Sherlock.

"I know it can't be Anderson, you have better taste than that... So who could it be?"

John just gave him the you're being an idiot right now did you know that look.

"Me?" Sherlock asked his voice sounding small. He schooled his features determined not let his hope show.

He hadn't realized that John knew that when his features were blank it was something that had an emotional impact on him.

"I know that you are married to your work, I'll keep trying..." John began. He was interrupted by Sherlock kissing him.

"I've been... I feel... I might be in love..."Sherlock said as he broke the kiss.


	169. Knock, Damn You!

Title: Knock, Damn You!

Prompt: Masturbation

Word Count:221B

Notes:

The beaker was bubbling and turning purple it was time to add the reagent... Sherlock reached for it where it should be on the kitchen table and it wasn't there. He remembered that he'd brought it to the bathroom when he was working on a decomposition experiment the other day.

He ran upstairs and cursed as he heard the sounds of the shower. His experiment couldn't wait. Days worth of work would be ruined. He opened the door.

The shower curtain was clear. He could see... John had been... Sherlock's brain overloaded at the sight. John naked, water dripping down his skin, his hands touching his erection...

"Sherlock!" John yelled as his hand dropped to his side and he turned bright red. "Knock, damn you!"

Sherlock grabbed the reagent, shaking the bottle but he didn't go back to the kitchen. His brain was replaying the sight of John touching himself and his body was letting him know that for the first time in a very long while, it was really interested in sex, as long as it was with John.

The water turned off and he heard the sound of John getting out of the shower. He went downstairs.

His experiment had bubbled over and was now bubbling and fizzing all over the table... This would end very badly.


	170. Delete It!

Title: Delete It!

Prompt:future

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for everyone who asked for a sequel to Yesterday's drabble. There will be a sequel. I have to figure out how adult a teen rated story can be or change the rating... might change the rating and start writing the occasional sex scene, what do y'all think?

"Delete it!" Sherlock shouted at his stubborn brain. The images of John, naked in the shower, committing an act of self pleasure haunted him. He wanted to know. He wanted to know what John's skin tasted like, what his face would look like contorted in the throes of pleasure, he wanted to know what John's skin felt like pressed up against him.

Sherlock got up off the sofa and glared at John who was coming back in with the shopping. It was all John's fault. If John wasn't so good, so perfect, Sherlock's brain could focus on things other than sex.

It was only when John dropped the bag that he was still holding and faced him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide that he realized he'd said it out loud.

Sherlock ran to his bedroom and shut the door. He didn't open it and come out no matter how many times John asked.

His stupid brain and his inability to keep his thoughts in his head and not out floating in the air would cost him. John liked women. John didn't like Sherlock as more than a friend, and they couldn't be friends now that John knew that he wanted to engage in sexual intercourse with John. His future was ruined, John would leave 221 B...


	171. In Which The Boys Get It Together

Title: In Which The Boys Get It Together

Prompt:Ecstasy

Word Count:About 700

Notes: Sorry about the lack of drabble yesterday. My husband refilled my sleeping pills and a new anti anxiety med and despite being told I should take them at the same time I probably shouldn't. As hallucinating was a new but perhaps fun side effect. Don't worry will be calling the doctor on Monday. It's been a while since I've written smut. Hope it's good

**Since no one objected to having the rating upped, the rating is now up and there will be stories containing sex. This story is one of them. A warning before the sex appears will appear it'll say fade to black... after that there will be sex.**

John waited two hours, sitting at his flatmate's door and trying to coax him out. Sherlock made it clear that he was listening and John wanted to see Sherlock's face while they had this conversation. Finally John knew drastic measures had to be taken.

"Open up, right now or I'm calling Mycroft!" he shouted. The door opened, "What?" Sherlock snarled.

He was pale and clearly convinced that John wanted to talk to him only to tell him that he was leaving.

John grabbed his hand and led him to the living room. He arranged it so that they were both sitting down on the sofa, but he kept hold of Sherlock's hand. His friend was skittish and likely to bolt at any moment.

"First of all, there is nothing you could say that would make me leave you. This is my home, here with you and I won't leave." he began.

Sherlock looked a little reassured but still extremely skittish.

"As far as love and sexual attraction go, I'm bisexual. I like both. I've had romantic and sexual feeling for you for a long time, but you told me you were married to your work so I've ignored them, not wanting you to give up on our friendship because of my unrequited love." John said.

He could practically see Sherlock's hard drive frying as it processed that.

"You're my blogger, part of my work..." Sherlock said.

"I want but I don't understand. I've never felt like this before. I've never had so many feelings directed to one person! Help me John!" he added.

John gathered Sherlock in his arms and placed his lips to his. It was a gentle kiss of reassurance.

"If it helps, despite all my relationships, I've never felt like this either," John whispered against Sherlock's ear.

"I want you safe. I want you with me. I get lonely when you aren't here. I feel euphoric when you are with me even if we're just sitting on the sofa watching crap telly, and ever since I saw you three days ago all I can think about is what sex with you would be like. What is this feeling? Is that what you meant by feelings of a romantic relationship?" Sherlock burst out.

"Yes," John answered simply as drew Sherlock into a deep, long and passionate kiss.

**Fade to Black**

After Sherlock got his breath back, he whispered. "Can I touch you and taste you John? Will you be mine and no one else's?"

"Yes," John answered as he helped Sherlock to remove his stripped jumper.

Sherlock's lips lingered on the bullet hole only a few short inches away from his heart, for a few moments before he focused on getting John completely naked on their sofa. He wasn't certain he liked the scar, it represented that John could have been dead and gone before Sherlock ever knew him.

Once John was naked he spent a few seconds looking without having to try and hide the fact that he was looking.

John was glorious, beautiful, exquisite and his forever. He'd never let John go. His skin felt amazing and he wanted to explore every inch of it but right now he wanted to focus his attention on that part of John that had drawn Sherlock's attention.

He placed kisses down John's chest as his hands stroked John's erection, it was a little wider and larger than his own.

He licked the base of it before taking as much of it as he could in his mouth. John's moans and breathy sighs were like music. He kept licking and sucking as he bobbed his head up and down and he delighted in John's hand's curling through his hair.

"Sherlock, I'm..." John warned but it wasn't necessary, Sherlock was delighted to swallow to categorize John's flavors... He cried out as he reached his own orgasm without being touched.

The two of them snuggled together, one naked, the other one fully clothed on the sofa.

The silence was broken as Sherlock said, "If I'm married to my work, and you're part of my work, does that mean we're married?"

"Why not? We practically are anyways." John answered with a grin.


	172. Save Your Tears, For I'll Come Back

Title: Save Your Tears, For I'll Come Back

Prompt:chart

Word Count:221

Notes: Was listening to A Thousand Words from Final Fantasy x2 and I've decided that's very much a Sherlock/John song.

Sherlock was in disguise. He couldn't be seen this was dangerous. Moran and some of that bastard Moriarty's minions were still out there and he'd done all of this to keep John safe... but he had to see. He had to know.

John had been shot in the stomach by a patient who had been angered and enraged at John helping his three children get safely away from him.

He needed to know the prognosis, and he needed to see John with his own eyes. He'd heard about John. About his weight loss, about his limp, about his seclusion from everyone but he needed to see at the John was going to live.

The chart was written in typical medical fashion and Sherlock wished John was at his side so that he could tell him all the little details, Sherlock didn't catch.

What stood out for him was that they felt his chances of survival was low. He'd developed pneumonia, and with his weight loss... in short, John's will to recover was nonexistent. His fault, that.

John's eyes opened but he was still high on morphine so Sherlock could make this work. "Live for me, John Watson, Live for your Sherlock," he whispered into his ear.

He left with yet another whisper in a beloved ear, "I'll come back."


	173. Waiting For You

Title:Waiting for You

Prompt:

Word Count:100

Notes: Continuation from yesterday

John woke up from a bullet wound to the stomach and pneumonia ready to fight. He couldn't explain it, not that he had anyone to explain it to, the only ones who checked on him were Molly and Mycroft, but he woke up convinced that Sherlock was still alive. He didn't tell anyone, they would think that he'd gone insane but he felt it.

It took him months, however, to regain his health, weight, and previous strength, about the same amount of time it took Sherlock to return home only to be sent to the floor by John's right hook.


	174. A Study In Patience

Title: A Study In Patience

Prompt: Patience

Word Count:221B

Notes:I'm sick, I need a Sherlock or John of my very own to watch crap telly with and take care of me.

I am hurt. I barely considered them friends but it does hurt. I want to yell at Lestrade and Donavan, tell them all I feel. How dare they come inside our home and imply that I don't care about John. I won't take a case when he's home, barely able to walk, and still shivering from cold after last night's chase.

I remember the horror of John falling into the freezing water, me loosing sight of his head before he bobbed back up and I was able to get him out of the water.

John is sleeping and he needs rest to feel better so I calmly kick them out of the flat and lock the door.

John is irritable and snappy. I want to snap back but I channel a part of John I admire his inexhaustible patience with me, and I instead soothe and distract. I rub his back through the coughing spasms, I rub his back while he vomits, I place a hot water bottles on his shoulder, I watch many episodes of crap telly.

Several hours of naps and crap telly later, John grabs my attention.

"Thanks for taking care of me," finally his lungs are free from congestion.

"You're welcome, don't get sick again though," I say with a smirk, "Patience is boring!"


	175. Safe And Warm

Title: Safe And Warm

Prompt: safe

Word Count:100

Notes: So apparently my new anti anxiety drug is going to make me sick for two weeks, while my body adjusts to the new chemical balance. Anyone know some good home remedies for nausea and lack of appetite?

Warmth filled him and Sherlock snuggled into John, sighing contentedly. John made a noise in his sleep and burrowed deeper into the blankets and snuggled further into Sherlock's chest. Earlier today, they'd been separated and Sherlock had even had a horrifying few hours when he'd thought John was dead. Which, is why they were snuggled in John's bed now, because after finding John, Sherlock hadn't wanted to John to leave his sight, even after they'd arrived home. Sherlock had been clinging to John not wanting to let go and they'd ended up tangled together in soft blankets, safe and warm.


	176. Prince John And Super Sherlock

Title: Prince John And Super Sherlock

Prompt:Superpowers

Word Count:221B

Notes: Thanks for all the hints and tricks about nausea, will answer them in the morning was on the phone earlier and I can't easily answer reviews on my phone. :-) This story is pure and utter crack, enjoy!

Sherlock soared through the air as he chased after the evil villain Moriarty who had kidnapped his Prince John. He caught up to the criminal mastermind easily and used his powers of telepathy to determine where his John was being kept. He made quick work of Moriarty, and this time the insane genius would not be coming back to harm John, and went to rescue his Prince.

Killing all of Moriarty's annoying henchman was more annoying than the criminal mastermind himself, mostly because there were a lot of them and he couldn't leave them alive to harm his Prince.

He scooped John up in his arms, bridal style, which caused John to protest that he wasn't a girl, thank you very much, and flew back to John's room in the castle, where he proceeded to use his telepathy in a far more enjoyable manner.

He was rewarded for his rescue efforts by getting to marry John and getting to solve any and all interesting crimes in the kingdom...

He also received a chemistry set and soon the sound of explosions were common through out the castle as were John's curses and affectionate scolding...

Sherlock blinked up at the ceiling, they must have him on the really good stuff, he thought, as he drifted back off to sleep, on the hospital bed.


	177. Come Back

Title: Come Back

Prompt: nightmare

Word Count:221B

Notes: Had a depressive episode the other day, hence the not writing, but at least I got inspiration for this drabble when I came out of it. I think my episodes, when they happen are harder on my spouse than on me.

Out of everything he'd ever seen, this was the worst, because he couldn't do anything. John was suffering, and Sherlock genius that he was, couldn't solve anything. How did he fix this? Depression, Sherlock had done his research, knew facts and symptoms but what the articles and facts didn't say was how to reach his lost partner.

John was listless, crying in the shower one moment, curled up in a ball the next. He wasn't John.

Psychiatrists had prescribed medication and John was taking it, Sherlock knew because he made sure of it, just like he made sure that anything that John could conceivably use to kill himself was out John's reach... John's sister had shot herself, Sherlock didn't know if John was suicidal too but he couldn't take that chance.

John had yet to come back from where he was locked up alone inside his head. Sherlock wanted to shake him, wanted to yell at him to come back...

He wanted to wake up and have this all be a horrible nightmare, followed by breakfast, laughter, running, or even silly trips to the store.

There was nothing Sherlock could do but sit at John's side, holding his hand and waiting.

His brain was useless and for once, Sherlock longed for utter mind numbing boredom and for John to come back.


	178. Oops!

Title: Oops!

Prompt: accident

Word Count:221B

Notes:

It was frustrating, there was something he was missing, something that he was failing to observe. He walked around the crime scene in frustration as he tried once more to see all of the details. John was examining the body, although Sherlock was certain he had missed nothing about the cause of death already. He knew the how but not the why.

John listed the stab wounds but then said something that put all the pieces together for him... a few months pregnant, early enough to be not obviously showing but still pregnant...

You're brilliant, I love you, John, he thought before moving away to tell Lestrade the details of how the woman had murdered by the wife of her lover...

Everyone was staring at him. Why were they staring at him? Well some of them always stared but why was John staring at him open mouthed?

"Did you know that you said all of that aloud?" John asked.

Sherlock stormed off, feeling embarrassed and not wanting to hear John's rejection of him. He especially didn't want to have to hear it in front of the entire yard.

John managed to catch up to him and kissed him, soundly. "I love you too," he whispered.

They kissed for a while before they continued home for some long overdue breakfast.


	179. Happy Valentine's Day

Title: Happy Valentine's Day

Prompt: None! Happy Valentine's Day

Word Count:221B

Notes: Hope everyone is having or had a good Valentine's Day! I had lunch out with my spouse and now we are going to watch anime together, it's also his birthday tomorrow so I might not have time to write!

John blinked at the kitchen table in shock as if the table would suddenly jump up and bite him. All of Sherlock's experiments had been cleared away and the table was shining and clean.

Sherlock had cleaned... John had to sit down from shock. He heard Sherlock talking to Mrs. Hudson and then Sherlock appeared carrying shocking bags. They contained actual food items and not things for experiments, John felt almost faint.

"Ah John, good morning!" Sherlock greeted with a smirk. "I deduced you wouldn't be up for another hour..." he added.

"I can go back to bed, the sight of the clean kitchen and you carrying groceries has made me nearly faint with shock!" John teased. Sherlock swatted him in the arse with a kitchen towel.

John headed back upstairs... "Happy Valentine's Day," Sherlock whispered an hour later waking him up from his sleep, and carrying a tray laden with breakfast and bright red rose.

John read Sherlock's card. "I hate everything overly sappy and sentimental but I do love you, John" the inside proclaimed.

"I love you too," John said.

He tapped the bed so that Sherlock could sit at his side and he ate badly burnt toast and over cooked eggs, under Sherlock's watchful eyes.

"It tastes delicious," he lied, badly.


	180. Raising Rosewyn

Title: Raising Rosewyn

Prompt: Dream

Word Count:221B

Notes: I want to continue this arc a little what do you think? Sherlock, John not romantically together (YET) raising a little girl... Could be fun.

It still felt much like a dream as the baby cried. He remembered the awful day that Mycroft had talked to John before he'd gotten home and John had told him that he was leaving. Leaving because apparently one of his ex-girlfriends had been pregnant and the flat here was no place to raise the baby who had already been abandoned by her mother.

"Raise her here," he'd begged John, not wanting his only friend to leave... He'd removed his experiments to the basement flat, his old bedroom was a nursery since he'd always slept on sofa most of the time anyways, cases and work schedules, were blended with Mrs. Hudson's schedule since she was the only one they would trust with the child... Well John suggested that they could trust Mycroft as well... but Sherlock wouldn't take that chance.

All the changes were worth it. John was still here... and little Rosewyn had him thoroughly wrapped around her little finger. It helped that from the first day she'd shown that like her father she had perfected the what the hell are you doing Sherlock? look. Hardly any of her mother's features showed up and Sherlock was quite happy that she looked so much like John.

Her tears stopped as Sherlock held her in his arms wrapped securely in blankets.


	181. The System

Title: The System

Prompt: Escape

Word Count:221B

Notes:

John tried to be discrete as he eyed the exits. Dating the woman he'd been set up with by his worried sister had seemed his only option if he'd wanted to keep his sister from worrying about him and nagging him to move out of the flat he shared with Sherlock.

Mary was dull and boring. She worked in pediatrics and she didn't seem interested in the cases he did with Sherlock at all. Then she'd proceeded to call all the soldiers in Afghanistan, monsters and by the time Sherlock had sent the usual text, he was more than happy to make his escape. He was glad that he'd managed not to lose his temper at the woman. He'd like to see her out there tending to the wounded and trying to keep people from dying with blood on her hands as people bled out before her.

Sherlock would send a text asking for something nonessential and if John was enjoying himself on the date, he'd talk about his annoying and demanding flatmate but if John wasn't enjoying himself he'd pretend it was urgent and that he had to rush home. As a thanks for the rescue John made tea and even managed to find some jaffa cakes.

"How was the date?" Sherlock asked as he sat up.

"Boring."


	182. So Very Wrong

Title: So Very Wrong

Prompt:victim

Word Count:221B

The murder victim lay in a congealing pool of blood. Everything about him made Sherlock's blood run cold. He wore a black and white striped jumper and his hair, facial features and stature was similar to the man, who was running an errand for Mycroft.

John had been wearing this jumper this morning, when Sherlock had sent him out to do the task Mycroft needed done that Sherlock didn't want to do himself. Sherlock couldn't remember what trousers John had been wearing he was having trouble focusing on any details about even the body before him.

Sherlock's hands were shaking as he dialed his brother's number, he needed to speak to John and he'd broken John's phone yesterday.

He hoped this was just a threat from a criminal he was close to catching and not the day one of the criminals he was chasing managed to kill his partner. This person, lying on the ground couldn't be his John, even if he looked like John, wore the same style clothes as John and had similar scar patterns as John.

John was alive, just being annoyed by Mycroft. It wasn't John, it couldn't be. Wrong! Wrong, this was so wrong. John had to be alive.

The phone rang six times before it dropped from shaking fingers onto the blood stained ground below.


	183. Pick Your Poison

Title: Pick Your Poison

Prompt:

Word Count: Two drabbles about 100 words each.

Notes: A continuation of the last drabble two choices, dead or alive, two drabbles.

Option A: Happy snuggle fluff.

The black car appeared near the scene and Lestrade led Mycroft in.

The detective was collapsed on the wall near the dropped phone and the body that... could possibly be John Watson's...

"Sherlock," Mycroft greeted, his voice was steady...

Sherlock looked up at him with watery gray blue eyes...

"John's alive. I had to take him to a safe house because someone tried to kidnap him but that body isn't John's.

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock had rattled off all the details that led to capture of Not John's murderer. Twenty minutes later, he was wrapped up in John's arms.

"John, I'm so glad you're alive," he whispered as he listened to the sound of a much beloved heart beat...

Option B: Soul Crushing Angst!

"I'm sorry brother, we lost contact with John, they disabled our cameras and..." Mycroft's voice was shaking.

John Watson was dead it was such a terrible and painful loss. His brother's best friend, his friend too as long as Mycroft wasn't doing something that had the potential to hurt Sherlock.

His brother didn't seem to be listening. He was weeping and shaking huddled on the ground but he wouldn't let anyone take him from the scene.

Finally, when they'd loaded the body on the stretcher to take the body to the morgue he'd had to be sedated and Mycroft was able to take him home.

Three day's later Sherlock's home seemed to be John's gravestone. He almost never left John's Side.


	184. Return Home

Title: Return Home

Prompt:

Word Count:221B

Notes: Written for NivalKenival , who's review yesterday seeking ways John wasn't dead gave me a bit of a plot thread... last continuation of this arch though!

Sherlock thought he was dead. John felt a mixture of guilt, sorrow and elation course through him. He wondered if this was how Sherlock felt when he'd pretended to be dead.

Mycroft said that his was the only way to get every one of the criminals to expose themselves rather than just the ones Sherlock was currently close to exposing.

Sherlock couldn't be told because it was Sherlock that they were watching and not John Watson. His best friend barely ate, barely slept and only solved the case because John had murdered his friend had found no joy in it and John wanted to go home.

Finally it was done, Mycroft said that he could leave the safe house and go home at last. He was dropped off at the grave that Sherlock spent all of his time.

"John," Sherlock said, as they held one another trembling and crying. John repeated Sherlock's name like a litany...

They dropped to the cold ground beneath them.

They sat there for hours, Sherlock cursing up a blue streak at both Mycroft and John, John scolding Sherlock about not eating, drinking, or sleeping... To which Sherlock said that there was no point in taking care of himself if John was gone.

Finally, they got up off the ground and returned home to 221 B.


	185. Almond Scented Massage

Title: Almond Scented Massage

Prompt: oil

Word Count:221B

Notes: Bonus fluff

The massage oil smelled faintly of almonds, and Sherlock enjoyed warming it between his hands. He'd enjoy the site of his mostly naked flatmate if he couldn't see the big black, purple, and green bruise on the bottom of his back.

Anderson had gone to slug Sherlock but the detective had moved at the last minute. The swing had hit John who had slammed hard into a wall.

That was yesterday, today he could hardly move.

Sherlock offered to give him a massage to help relax tensed muscles.

It was nice to rub oil into John's muscles to hear the pleased sounds John made as he relaxed. To enjoy the slow breathing... to pretend that they were more than just friends and flatmates but lovers as well.

He imagines the kisses exchanged between light and gentle strokes, and firm strokes designed to get knots out of muscles, that causes John to moan loudly.

He imagines pleased sounds that wouldn't have to be muffled by the pillow because they'd be together and every sound of John's pleasure would be rightfully Sherlock's. He imagines the towel not being there and instead his eyes being treated to pure naked John.

Once again, Sherlock feels utter hatred for John's girl friends and wishes they'd go far away.

John behaves like and should be Sherlock's boyfriend.


	186. Scarves And Smiles

Title: Scarves And Smiles

Prompt:

Word Count:221B

Notes: Didn't think today was ever going to end. Not only did the doctor call to tell me that I have to retake last week's blood work, since my white blood cells were high (possibly a cold but I didn't feel sick), but I had more homework than I anticipated. Wanted to write a smutty sequel to yesterday's drabble but I'm to drained mentally and physically to do it today.

Sherlock could see his exhalations with every breath and John was shivering where he stood on the other side of the body before them. It was bitterly cold out, damp, and a truly dreary day outside.

If it were anyone else but John he'd ignore their shivering and weakness to their bodily needs at best, or demand they be sent away from the scene for distracting him.

However, it was John. His blogger. His best friend. His to protect. His to love. His to take care of. His well earned reputation as a sociopath didn't matter when compared to those facts.

Sherlock removed his beloved scarf and wrapped it softly around John's neck. He'd have given John his jacket, as well, to add to John's own collection of jacket and jumper but he knew John would scold him loudly for not thinking of his own health. He hated when John scolded him it made him feel a bit not good.

John smiled in thanks and proceeded to list all possible causes of death that he could see...

He finally listed one that Sherlock hadn't notice but that fit all the details of the crime scene, and a few hours after that, and a thankfully short chase through dark alleyways, they were able to go home and seek out a hot beverage.


	187. Sex On The Beach

Title: Sex On The Beach

Prompt:Beach

Word Count:282

Notes: The drabble was to short and then it was to long. My smut muse is broken... but here's an attempt

Sherlock scowled at the bruises as he rubbed the suntan lotion into John's back. He lay on the towel, wearing only a pair of stripped swimming trunks.

The sound of the waves hitting the shore and the smell of coconut scented lotion was pleasing as was the fact that John was here without any girlfriend.

He wanted there to be no more girlfriends. He wanted the swim trunks to be gone, since this was after all a private beach, at a private resort. He wanted to have the right to rub his hands all over John whenever he wanted...

He imagined stroking the lotion down John's back, between his thighs, touching John like he touched himself...

Being touched by John. No one had ever touched him. He wondered if John would be slow and gentle or fast and intense. What would it feel like for John to touch him?

"Sherlock? Is something wrong?" John asked, turning slightly to face him. His hand was inappropriately low just below John's swim trunks.

Sherlock grabbed John and kissed him. John looked into his eyes for a long moment, seeking something, and then he kissed Sherlock back.

They were pressing up against one another, caressing and arching. There was tongue, teeth, stroking hands, more sensations than Sherlock had ever felt before. They were both naked... John kept nipping at his neck and Sherlock was obsessed with kissing the scar, not far from John's heart.

He had his hands wrapped around John and John had his hands wrapped around him. There was stroking, kissing, and such intensity. It was a flash of light, a supernova, his brain was imploding.

It was sticky, messy, wonderful, and beautiful.


	188. A Special Level Of Hell

Title: A Special Level Of Hell

Prompt: snowed in

Word Count:221

Notes: A kitten walked into my husband's work (he's an overnight manager at a drug store) so he brought home a little kitten. It's been a busy day tending to the isolation porch (he has to be isolated until he can get his shots, to keep my other cats safe) but he's a cute and friendly little guy. Much to friendly to have been a stray for long...

This was a special level of hell, John thought as he once more refereed a fight. First, his morning started with the rousing sound of the fire alarm going off, Sherlock telling him not to come down, and coming down later to discover the charred and burnt remains of his microwave and toaster.

He had a miserable morning as a result, since Sherlock's experiment hadn't worked as planned so the detective had been a sulky lump on the couch.

Then, Lestrade, Anderson, and Donavan had come in for a drugs bust... and that had been enough of a hassle for him to him to mediate between Sherlock and the yard but then his favorite kidnapper (the one who didn't strap him to explosives) showed up.

To top it off, before anyone left it started snowing and they were snowed in, unable to escape. Sherlock, Donavan, Anderson, and Mycroft all in the same room with only him and Lestrade to keep it from becoming sheer pandemonium.

John had taken Sherlock's violin, after he kept playing the same three shrill notes. Anderson was a total arse and Mycroft was entirely to smug for this to have been entirely a happy coincidence.

His hand clenched with the suppressed desire to punch three people in their overly smug faces, as he broke out the booze.


	189. Too Much

Title: Too Much

Prompt: Easter Candy

Word Count:221B

Notes: Long time no fic! Sorry! Short version of where I've been: first trying to get my oldest cat used to the kitten, then my 24 year old cat getting sick and scaring us (she pulled through and is still kicking!), then going to the Dry Tortugas to scatter some ashes, then dealing with the kitten's post surgery and training... setting up for a move to a smaller apartment, allergies, and then finally watching season five and six of Doctor Who... Anyways now onto the fic!

Sherlock didn't have to hide his smirk, the way he was positioned prevented John from seeing his face. John was rubbing Sherlock's hair to ease Sherlock's self inflicted pain. John had been going out on a date, the 15th one with the same woman and Sherlock needed to assert his prior claim on John...

No one was going to take the one person, Sherlock had chosen to be his lifelong friend and partner. Especially not some woman who had fainted at the sight of a severed hand. Honestly, if she thought that was worth fainting over, how would she handle severed toes or heads? John needed to get rid of her and soon. Really, Sherlock was only helping bring on the inevitable realization that she wasn't the "one."

Eating the entire giant basket of Easter candy in one go and being spectacularly sick just before John had to leave, had been extremely painful but it was worth it as John had scolded him, canceled his date, and helped him to bed after taking care of his sick.

Sherlock eased into a painful and sugar induced sleep as John continued the soothing strokes. John would stay by his bed all night and when he woke up he wouldn't be alone...

Next time though, he'd only eat half the candy laden basket.


	190. In Sickness

Title: In Sickness

Prompt:

Word Count:221B

Notes:Long time no see! So where have I been? Doctor's appointments, tests, sick in bed, having surgery, and recovering from surgery mostly! But now my gallbladder is no longer inside my body, my incisions are starting to heal and I'm beginning to feel better...

Turning his head away from the spectacle, John turned back to his book and tried to go back to reading. Sherlock was sick, but had already disregarded John's advice and care so John would therefore ignore the sniffling, sneezing, coughing, over dramatic man-child, who had dropped down heavily on the couch moments before.

This morning before John had headed to work, he'd tried to tend to Sherlock's illness. Even though Sherlock clearly had a temperature, he wouldn't let John check his temperature. He'd told John that he was fine and didn't need a mother hen, and then yelled at John to leave him alone.

He'd finally just told Sherlock to spend the day resting before running to work so he wouldn't be late, but Sherlock had instead gone out and solved a case (one that he'd called dull days before), over exerted himself running around town and made his illness worse.

John wasn't going to give in and give Sherlock the attention the man craved... Sherlock had brought it upon himself. He wasn't going to cave in... John was about to say something and he was trying to force himself not to say I told you so, when the silence was broken.

Sherlock's voice was hoarse, he could barely croak out the words, "John, I'm sick, make me feel better?"


	191. Color Fades To Black

Title: Color Fades To Black

Word Count:221 B

Notes: Reichenbach angst sorry!

Tears fell down John's face, as he lay in his bed, holding Sherlock's robe with shaking fingers. Sherlock was dead. He had jumped... John hadn't been able to stop him. Sherlock was gone.

John couldn't process it. It had been hours since he'd lost the most important person in his universe. It seemed impossible that there wouldn't be a mad genius popping into his room shouting, "come on, John, we have a case!" There would be no more explosions and acid spills on the kitchen table. There would be no more bullet holes in the wall, or heads in the fridge. There would be no more listening to the brilliant deductions falling from his best friend's mouth before they solved another case. There would be no more texts distracting him. There would be no more laughing with his best friend.

There would be no more anything. Life seemed empty and meaningless again already. The color fading back to black. John cried himself to sleep, knowing that nothing would be better in the morning.

In a room across town, Sherlock fought back tears as he looked at the CTV camera feed from John's room. He pressed his shaking hand to the screen as if he could somehow stop John's pain, bit his lip and continued to watch his best friend break.


	192. One More Day

Title: One More Day

Word Count:221

Notes: I need prompts, anyone got some to share?

One more day and it would all be over. One more day and I can come back from the "dead". I can go home to my John. I can go back to the life I lived before Moriarty's final solution. I can go back to being the only consulting detective in the world and best friend to John Watson.

Doubt fills me, no matter how much I try and clear it from my mind. Will John forgive me? I made him watch as I jumped off a building, made him think I was dead. If the situation was reversed, if John faked suicide and left me out of a plan, I'd feel betrayed, angry, and beyond hurt. I don't know if I'd forgive him if things were reversed.

John has always forgiven me, although this is a lot more serious than blowing up kitchen appliances, always understood my reasons once I've explained them, there has to be a way to make him understand this.

I don't regret my choice, how could I regret choosing John's life? Even if I hadn't had a plan to escape death ready to be put into play, I would have jumped off that building, without hesitation, to keep John safe from harm.

I love him. I need him more than I need to draw breath.


	193. One Day I'll Be Back

Title: One Day I'll Be back

Prompt: Skull

Word Count:221B

Notes: For Rairakku1234 who sent me prompts suggestions the other day, including the mention that I haven't written about the skull for a while. Thanks!

Sherlock felt even more love, if it was possible, course through his veins as he watched. The skull was cradled in John's arms as the doctor was talking softly to it.

"It's been three years, since Sherlock-" his voice broke before continuing.

"When will it stop hurting?" he asked.

"Soon," Sherlock whispered as he watched the tape. Mycroft had bugged the flat and Sherlock was watching the feed as he waited for news. He was nearly certain that Moran, who had been dealt with earlier today, was the last, but he wouldn't go near John until it was 100 percent certain that it was over.

There was no point in seeing John, watching the anger and happiness both express themselves on John's features, only for John to be killed seconds later, before Sherlock's eyes.

So for now he'd watch his beloved cradle the skull (the skull that had been Sherlock's first and often times only friend in that dark period of his life before John) in his arms, listen to him talk, on a grainy video feed while he longed for home.

His hands caressed the image on the screen as he imagined his return. In his mind, there was kisses and they become a couple seconds after their reunion.

He whispered, "one day I'll be back."


	194. Breaking Point

Title: Breaking Point

Word Count:221

Notes: Angst waffle muse, might continue.

There was only silence in the flat. Sherlock checked his phone, Mycroft letting him know that John had moved in with Harry.

He rushed upstairs, needing to know if he'd lost John forever or if this was just a temporary goodbye. All of John's things had been removed while Sherlock was out, the only thing that was still there was a dirty jumper, nearly hidden in a dusty corner.

He'd gone to far. First, he'd destroyed some of John's possessions which would have normally just gotten John a little angry, then he'd used John in an experiment without John's permission that had brought all John's worst memories and fears into focus, and then in order to seem like they were not following the suspect they were tailing, he'd snogged John before saying that it was just for the case and that it wasn't like Sherlock was interested. Lastly, John had gone into Sherlock's room to get a file that the detective was to lazy to get himself and had found the cocaine, Sherlock had forgotten to hide, lying on the bed.

John had rushed to Sherlock, lifted up his shirt sleeve and come across the telltale signs of fresh drug injections, he'd left without a word.

Sherlock buried his head into John's jumper and sobbed. John was gone, everything was broken.


	195. Therapy

Title: Therapy

Word Count:221 B

Notes: A continuation of yesterday's drabble, still angsty though, sorry!

Sherlock hated every moment of his drug counseling sessions, but he'd chosen to be admitted to the private rehab clinic after his drugs had cost him the only thing that mattered. Not the work, not even Mycroft had noticed he'd gone back to his little habit, but John.

John, who had done so much for Sherlock that the genius hadn't even noticed until John had left. John had believed in him, admired him, made sure that he took care of himself (or took care of him if he did not), laughed with him, enjoyed the adventure and puzzles with him and made Sherlock happier than anyone or anything had ever made him. Sherlock had taken him for granted...

So if listening to the dull and useless advice from the therapist was the only way to become the friend that John deserved, then Sherlock would attend every session and participate in the horror that was group therapy.

Sherlock stared at the wall, not expecting any letters from the mail being delivered. He'd written an apology letter weeks ago and he didn't expect a letter in return... and so far he hadn't got one.

The envelope addressed to him from Afghanistan was a shock, what was John doing back in a war zone? Panic canceled out the joy of John writing him back.


End file.
